Scarlet Letter
by RobinRocks
Summary: A gothic romance of L Lawliet, Beyond Birthday and Light Yagami as the tales of serial murderers tangle on the streets of London, shrouded by the shadow of the single letter that started it all. COMPLETE.
1. I: Jack the Ripper

I have had the idea for this fic for _ages_ – long before I got my mitts on _Another Note_ and even before I made the decision that Narroch and I should cram B into a bonus act of _Poison Apple_.

Doesn't seem quite as mental when I confess that, incidentally, I came up with the plot for _Poison Apple_ before I'd even seen/read _Death Note_ itself…

Anyway, a little about this fic. It is a multi-chapter story – a **mini-fic** is probably the best way of describing it, and it will have six chapters, three of which I have already written. :) Additionally, it is also two stories in one – they are linked (obviously), but every chapter will be split into two segments. The first is a present day story, set during the Kira case; the second, written in italics, is an old case, set **before** the LA murders as described in _Another Note_.

Like a lot of the writers on FFNet who have decided to write fics including Beyond Birthday, I have taken a lot of artistic liberty – it seems to be a common "glitch" wherein the readers are asked to forget what befell B at the end of the novel. I don't like to call this fic "AU" because it isn't at all removed from the _Death Note_-verse, it's just… non-canon, I suppose.

Pairings… ehh… BxL, LxB, and Light is in the mix somewhere…

I – Jack the Ripper

Light Yagami awoke to the sight of an unfamiliar room.

His head ached when he moved it and his vision slid in out and out of focus and he felt stiff all over from sleeping in his clothes.

Light was, as a rule, skilled in the art of deduction; adept at taking the tiniest slivers of information and piecing them together to create a theory that in turn birthed a satisfactory conclusion to a question that lay unsolved—

But he couldn't for the _life_ of him deduce quite how he had come to be here; in this room with its white-painted, cracked ceiling and oppressive, peeling floral wallpaper, lying in a bed riddled with renegade springs seemingly _designed_ to dig painfully into one's spine.

Off to his left he heard the rhythmic _clacking_ of laptop keys; he sat up in bed, rubbing at his painful neck as he followed the source of the _clacking_ down to the floor beside the bed.

Of course. It figured. It made perfect sense, all in the form of a single Romanic letter.

_L_.

"Where the hell are we?" Light demanded, prodding the detective with his foot. "Hey, you. Ryuzaki!"

"We are in England, Light-kun," L answered blandly, pushing Light's foot away.

Light blinked, thrown off.

"Excuse me… we're _where_?"

"England." L glanced at him over his shoulder. "Great Britain. The United Kingdom. Whichever you prefer."

"We were _not_ in England when I fell asleep!" Light spat incredulously.

"I know – but you should know that you also did not fall asleep of your own accord. I took the liberty of drugging you. I didn't think you would take very kindly to my suggestion of this notion. Incidentally, you have been out for a _very_ long time."

"Can I not turn my back on you for _two minutes_?" Light snapped, stunned by this revelation. "You invite me to be on the taskforce to help you investigate Kira, I agree to stay late at your hotel to look over clues and case-notes, you offer me a cup of tea, and the next thing I'm waking up in _England_, with you admitting that you drugged me and brought me here without my _permission_…?!"

"I knew you'd be angry," L replied nonchalantly, not looking at him.

Light swung his legs over the edge of the bed, glaring down at the detective.

"My father isn't going to be very happy about this," he said coldly.

"On the contrary, he has already been informed. Watari took care of it."

Light heaved himself up and stepped past L, rubbing at his aching back as he went to the window to look out.

"This is kidnap," he muttered blackly; though with enough volume so that L would be able to hear him.

"I know," L responded cheerfully.

"Where are we in England?"

"Where? London, Light-kun."

Light peeled back the musty curtains to glance out at the street below; the scene outside was like that directly out of a history book on Victorian Britain. It was raining, the sky a dull, oppressive grey that seemed to seep down into the scenery itself, the filthy pavement shining with the wetness. The street was very narrow and quite far down, giving the impression that this room they were in was high up. The other buildings in the street were all tall, tapered and crammed close together, with small windows and brickwork that had seen better days.

"It's… nothing like I expected," Light ventured at last.

"We are not in a very nice part of London, Light-kun. All the monuments and theatres and everything are across the city."

Light paused.

"And we are in London at all _why_?"

"I have my reasons. There is just something that I should look into, and I thought that you might be of help to me."

"Wow." Light came back to the bed and sat down on it. "Must be pretty important if you dropped the Kira case for it."

"Not at all, actually." L hesitated, tilting his head towards Light. "I think that this… may in fact have a lot to _do_ with the Kira case."

Light frowned.

"Has Kira moved to England, do you think?"

"No," was all L said.

"Then what—?"

"No questions at the moment, Light-kun. I will explain later." L went back to his laptop. "At the moment I am very busy."

Light gave a frustrated little sigh and got up once again, heading for the tiny en suite bathroom.

"Okay, well, I have to use the bathroom, so…"

L didn't answer him and Light went in, shutting the door behind him and pulling the stiff little lock across. He went over to the sink to wash his face and, on glancing up into the mirror, caught Ryuk's reflection.

"There you are," he muttered, keeping his voice as low as possible. "Did you come with us?"

"No," Ryuk replied. "You were busy working with that L guy, so I left, and I came back to the hotel room, you were both gone. I had to go all the way back up to the Shinigami Realm to look for you."

"You'd suck as a bodyguard, Ryuk."

"Well, it's not my job to look after you," Ryuk snickered. "What's going on, anyway?"

"I wish I knew. He said something about… well, _something_ over here to do with the Kira case."

"Have you been killing a lot of people over here lately?"

"No. Well, not a significant number. Nothing that would make him think Kira had moved over here, anyway."

"But doesn't he think that _you're_ Kira?"

"Partly. He's not completely sure. It doesn't matter, anyway. He doesn't think it actually _is_ Kira, whatever it is; and it _isn't_. I can vouch for that myself." Light gripped the edges of the sink. "Look, Ryuk, I need you to go back to Japan. Tell Misa she has to keep killing criminals, okay? I can't do it here, I don't have the Death Note on me."

"But I just got here—"

"Ryuk, this is possibly what L is up to. Maybe there _is_ no real reason for us to be here – he just took me away from Japan unexpectedly to see if the killings stop."

Ryuk gave a grudging nod, rolling his yellow eyes as he backed off through the bathroom wall.

"Okay, see ya later…"

Light finished up in the bathroom and came out, running wet fingers through his hair to smooth it back into shape. He glanced about for L, who had since vacated his spot on the floor – his laptop was closed but still flashing in stand-by mode.

He found the detective over by the window he had previously been at, holding back the curtain so that he too could look out at the drab, dull street below.

"Doesn't it just look like a perfect place to be a detective, Light-kun?" he said; it was less of a question and more of a statement. "Dark, filthy, with all this Gothic Victorian architecture and choking smog hanging over the entire city—"

"Heh. Sounds like the beginning of a crime novel."

"You'd be surprised. A lot of the most famous fictional criminals and monsters are British Victorian inventions." L tilted his head in thought. "Dracula, Sherlock Holmes, Frankenstein, Jekyll and Hyde…"

"What is this, an educational field trip?" Light snapped irritably.

"No. These are just points of interest." He paused for a long time. "…Of course, they weren't _all_ fictional, were they?"

Light gave a bewildered shrug, not knowing what L was getting at.

"You are familiar with Jack the Ripper, I presume?" L supplied at this.

"Well, not _with_ him," Light replied sarcastically.

L gave a humourless little laugh.

"Well, no. Nobody was. He was never caught."

"I know who you mean. Murderer in Victorian London, definitely killed five women, though possibly even eight or nine." Light arched an eyebrow. "Don't tell me we're here to catch _Jack the Ripper_, Ryuzaki."

"Don't be ridiculous, Light-kun." L glanced at him, his expression unreadable. "Really, I'm surprised at you."

Light sighed.

"I wasn't being serious, but why are you mentioning him?" He paused. "Do you think there's a similarity to Kira, the way a faceless serial killer was given a notorious nickname, or—?"

"No, nothing like that; though that _is_ an interesting point, Light-kun."

"Then why are we _here_, Ryuzaki?"

"Because whilst we might not be hunting for a murderer who surely expired before the 1930s, and most likely before that, we _are_ here to find _a_ murderer."

L looked again at Light, who offered nothing by way of reply to this.

"…One who was also never caught."

* * *

"_What are you going to do about this, L?"_

_L glanced up at Watari from the newspaper he'd been immersed in; the elderly man was pouring tea over at the small table near the door of the hotel suite._

"_What do you mean, Watari?"_

"_I mean that." Watari nodded at the front page of the newspaper as he came over with the cup and saucer. "These murders."_

_L blinked as he took the teacup, sipping daintily at the hot drink. _

"_Why, catch the murderer of course, Watari." He tilted his head. "We came all the way up to London from Winchester for this. What else do you suppose I should do?"_

"_I know you're going to catch the murderer," Watari responded pleasantly, sinking into an armchair with a cup of his own. "That goes without saying. I meant… do you have any idea how you're going to go about it? There appears to be no connection between any of the murder victims. They were differing genders, had different ages—"_

"_No, that's not true, Watari. That's not true at all. On the surface there appears to be little connection between all of the murders, but when you do some digging – very little, I feel that I have to stress – you find that there is, in fact, a very obvious connection between all of them."_

"_Such as…?"_

"_Here, I will show you." L put his teacup down and leapt nimbly from his armchair, padding across the room to retrieve a file he'd placed on the desk. He brought it back over, handing it to Watari. "Now, I confess that I probably have something of an unfair advantage over the London Metropolitan Police concerning this now that I've spotted the connection…"_

_Watari flipped some sheets back and forward._

"_All I see are differences," he said at length. "The gaps between the ages of the victims—"_

"_That's __**it**__, Watari. That's the connection." L pointed at the information on the first victim. "First victim, male, Caucasian, British origin, aged fifty-two. Second victim, female, again Caucasian and of British origin, aged thirty-nine. Third victim, female, black, African origin, aged twenty-six… You'll find that there's a recurring number of years separating their ages."_

_Watari was silent for a moment, calculating; then he looked up, frowning._

"_Thirteen," he said._

_L nodded._

"_Right. Thirteen." He got back onto his own chair and took up his tea again. "That was all I needed, that recurring thirteen. I know who the murderer is. All I have to do is find him."_

"_And this murderer would be…?"_

"_Here, I'll write it down for you."_

_L scrabbled about for a piece of paper and a pen; when he came into possession of both, he wrote something with a quick flourish and held it out to Watari, who took it in puzzlement._

_The number thirteen, written in its numerical form:_

_13_

"_Thirteen?" Watari seemed puzzled. "I thought this was your solution, not the actual murderer."_

"_Look closer and you'll see that it's actually both."_

_Watari adjusted his glasses and squinted harder at the paper; and then raised his eyebrows in a manner that was still somehow extremely grave._

"_B," was all he said._

_L gave a detached nod, staring off across the room at something that wasn't there._

"_Right," he agreed absently. "B." _

* * *

Additional note about this fic – it has a "Gothic" twist (as in, the literary movement rather than the black-lipstick-and-eyeliner kind…) and thus each chapter is themed around a figure from British Victorian-period literature… with the exception of Jack the Ripper, who was, of course, a real person. Not that that has stopped movies, novels, comic books and cartoons from using him as a character, but whatever.

…However, an interesting point is that the overall title of the fic comes from Nathaniel Hawthorne's _The Scarlet Letter_, which, while coming from what would also have been the Victorian period, is American. That's it, though – everything else is British, which unfortunately means I had to leave out Edgar Allan Poe, but I guess I kind of overuse him anyway…

O.o

Anyway… yeah. Not much happened this chapter, but hopefully your interest is piqued enough that you will come back for chapter two!

RobinRocks

xXx

P.S: You know, it seems like an exaggeration that it is always raining here in Britain – it's not, though, ironically, it _is_ actually raining where I am as I write this…


	2. II: Frankenstein

Well, yay. People seem to like my B fic so far!

Anyway, thankyou muchly to: **Tikaani, BakayaroManiac, Great Aunt Florence, CheeseFaerieXXL, Svadilfari, Spryte, Shadow-L-Chan, Ayachan, PirateCaptainBo, Tamouri, ElegantArrow 64, Narroch, Orange Sheep of the Flock **and **DoYouFindMeDreadful**.

Same rules as before – this is two separate, yet inter-tangled, stories, the first of which being a Kira-case-timeline story and the second being a story set before the LA BB case.

And this chapter's gothic Victorian literature inspiration is…

II – Frankenstein

"You know this guy, then?" Light pressed, not looking up from the sheets of information and data that L had given him to look at. "This… murderer we're looking for?"

He received no answer for his pains, and eventually looked up, ticked.

"_Ryuzaki_!"

"Hm?" L, who had been standing absently gazing out of the window again, glanced in his direction. "I apologise, Light-kun, I wasn't listening."

Light rolled his eyes.

"Well, that's obvious," he responded tersely. He waved the sheets clutched in his hand. "This nutjob we're over here hunting for… You know him?"

L looked at him coolly.

"Well, that's not to imply that I was exactly his best friend, Light-kun, but… yes… I know him." He paused. "Knew him." He paused again, tilting his head as though thoroughly perplexed. "To be honest, I can't decide if the past or present tense is more suitable to describe my familiarity with the killer."

"Well, you're obviously not in _contact_ with him right now, right?"

L arched an eyebrow.

"Obviously not."

"Then I'd say past tense." Light went back to the information. "At any rate, it doesn't matter to _this_."

"Doesn't it?"

"Well, no, I wouldn't say so. You claim you know who the killer is. You claim to have known them previously. However, neither of those facts help us in tracking down his whereabouts right at this very moment."

"No, that's true." L came away from the window to approach Light, who was sitting on the bed.

"I can't see any obvious connections between the victims," Light went on. "There are no recurring gaps between their ages—"

"Is that the first thing you looked at, Light-kun?"

"Well, yeah, I guess so, given that there's no correlation between the initials of their names or their genders."

L smiled, getting up onto the bed next to him and nestling in his usual position.

"I'm very impressed," he said. "There _is_ a connection, however."

Light frowned.

"Are you sure? Because I can't see one."

"That's because it's not there. Not on those sheets, anyway."

Light looked up, a slight hint of a scowl tinting the incredulous expression on his face.

"I was just testing you," L went on airily. "Just out of interest, really. If I'd given you the connection on there, you'd have spotted it immediately and focused on nothing else. I did wonder if I left out the obvious connection whether or not you would spot something else that even _I_ overlooked."

"Well, I didn't," Light responded coldly, "because, I assure you, there's nothing there."

"Just as I thought." L dug in his pocket for a hand-written piece of paper, handing it to Light. "This is the actual connection, and the only one _I_ could find."

Light looked at the paper – it was a list of addresses.

"These are the addresses of the victims?"

"All three, yes."

Light blinked.

"Well… but… this is so… _simple_." Light glanced up, apparently quite astonished by the boldness of the connection. "They all lived in number thirteen."

"Right. The first was the thirteenth flat and the other two were houses."

"Is… this is _it_?"

"You seem disappointed." L sounded amused.

"W-well, I just thought… given your reputation… that it would all be a bit more—"

"Like _Kira_, you mean?" L gave a little laugh. "Cryptic? Mind-bending? Seemingly impossible to solve? Haven't you ever heard of Ockham's Razor, Light-kun?"

"Yeah, I know, I know… 'The simplest answer is most often the correct one'."

"Indeed. Despite my reputation as the world's greatest detective, Light-kun, even _I_ don't make things more difficult than they need to be – or, just as often, as they actually _are_." L gave a shrug. "Besides, the _connection_ might be obvious, but that doesn't mean that finding the perpetrator will be anywhere near as easy."

"…I guess so." Light was still quite miffed by the simplicity of the connection between victims. Sure, the connection between all of his kills was _also_ screamingly obvious – they were all condemned criminals – but with Kira, there the trail ended. He didn't even have to go anywhere near his victims in order to kill them.

But these… these were just run-of-the-mill murders. All stabbings, apparently with the same knife each time. Surely, with a little forensics…

"I know what you're thinking," L said, cutting into his thoughts. "This seems like quite a simple serial killer case to you. You're wondering why I'm involved with it – and, more importantly, why I left Japan in the middle of a far more important high-profile case to attend to it."

"Well, I guess that's because… you know who the murderer is, right?"

L nodded slowly.

"And don't you wonder how I know?"

"Well, my guess is that you've seen this before." Light frowned. "You said we were here to catch a killer who, like Jack the Ripper, has never been caught. Do you mean that… it's a murderer who has done this before but got away from you?"

L was nodding again.

"Yes, yes, very impressive. However, the murderer in question has not done this once before, but in fact _twice_, and has gotten away from me both times."

Light gave an incredulous snort.

"And you're still the world's greatest detective?"

"I've still solved more "unsolvable" cases than any other detective in the world to date, so yes, I am." L chewed at his thumb thoughtfully. "…Tell me, are you familiar with the 'Los Angeles BB Murder Case'?"

Light put all of the sheets down on the bed next to him slowly, giving L his full attention.

"What does that have to do with this?"

"Because this is the same murderer."

"I thought you _caught_ the murderer—"

"A common belief, but, regardless, an incorrect one. He got away, just like he got away from me before that again."

"I don't follow."

L gave a small sigh, kneading at his forehead.

"Put it like this: This is his third murder spree. The second one, which took place in Los Angeles in the USA, is the most well-known one. The other two – the first one and this one, the third – took place here in London. Neither have been as well-documented, most likely due to the smaller size of Britain in comparison to America."

"And you're certain that all three are the same murderer?" Light said sceptically.

"Absolutely. If I didn't know who the murderer was, I might not be one hundred per cent, but given my possession of this knowledge, it would be a grave mistake on my part to presume anything else. Here… When I show you the connection, you'll see what I mean, and doubtless be equally certain."

He took a pen out of his pocket and reached across, taking up the paper he'd written the addresses on and turning it over so that he could scrawl on the back. He wrote for a few moments, then handed Light the sheet back.

"These are the ages of the first set of victims and the names of those killed in LA," he said as Light studied it.

"It's thirteen again," Light noted, tapping the ages. "Okay, so that's obviously the same killer, but these names… Believe Bridesmaid, Quarter Queen, Backyard Bottomslash… I mean, neither B nor Q is the thirteenth letter of the Romanic alphabet, and even if you add their numbers together, you still don't get thirteen. B is the second letter and if you add the two Bs of 'Believe Bridesmaid' you only get four—"

"Light-kun, don't focus on the mathematics so much. Remember, Ockham's Razor."

"But, then… the only thing left that simple is the fact that a capital 'B' looks like…"

"…Thirteen in its numeric form." L was nodding. "That is correct, and that is the answer."

"What about the Qs, then?"

"That one took a little imagination. Quarter Queen was only a child, and thus her name was rendered only in lowercase letters – 'qq'. When found, she was also lying face-down; she'd been put that way on purpose because…"

"A Romanic lowercase 'q' looks like an upside-down lowercase 'b'," Light finished. "Kind of a stretch, but okay, I guess it fits." He glanced up, looking hard at L. "…Then, in that case, the connection between all of these serial killings isn't _thirteen_, but—"

"—_B_." L gave a small sigh. "The LA case was much more carefully planned and exacted. Both London sets aren't nearly as ingenious in their method, but even so, it's the '_B_' that echoes throughout each of them – it's a calling, you see, a bid for attention. A bid for L's attention." He hesitated. "…_My_ attention."

Light was silent for a moment or two.

"…So you're saying… all these people have been killed… simply because some psychotic whack-job wants _you_ to chase him?!" he burst out eventually.

"In layman terms, yes. This is the third time, the third time I haven't…" L shook his head. "No matter. I'll get him this time. I have you to help me, right, Light-kun?"

Light gave a nod.

"Sure thing, Ryuzaki, as long as you don't start trying to pin _this_ on me as well."

"That is so highly unlikely that I cannot put a percentage to it," L responded shortly. "I told you, I _know_ who the killer is. It's obvious. It couldn't possible be anyone else."

"And that would be…?"

"You have the answer already," L replied dully. "B."

"Wait… you mean that the _murderer_ is called B…?"

"That is correct. B. BB. Beyond Birthday. Whatever you want to call him."

Light gave a weak little laugh.

"The murderer is also known by only a single letter," he noted. "What are the odds?"

L tilted his head.

"Very high," he reasoned, "when you take into account that he was once my heir."

* * *

"_What's the matter, Watari?" L asked, pausing in his typing and glancing over his shoulder as his old caretaker appeared in the doorway to the living area of the suite. "Can't you sleep?"_

"_No," Watari replied, coming into the room where L was perched on the couch with his laptop. "But at least I have tried, which is more than I can say for you."_

"_I'm not tired." L went back to his work, nimble fingers darting over the keyboard._

"_Still hunting for B?"_

"_Not at the moment, I confess. I am working on a few other cases in addition to the capture of B following this little escapade of his. I think I've narrowed down the area, however." L pointed towards a few printed-out and enlarged maps scattered on the table a few feet away._

"_Ever the worker ant," Watari mused, sitting down across from him and rubbing the bridge of his nose where his glasses usually rested._

"_B is just as hard-working as I," L replied, "which is a disadvantage to us."_

_Watari gave a sigh and then was quiet for a very long time, seemingly lost in his own melancholy thoughts._

"_Watari," L said at length, making the man look at him, "please do not blame yourself for this. It is not your fault that B turned out… well, as he has."_

_Watari gave a thin smile._

"_You may have earned your title as the greatest detective in the world, L," he said, "but not even __**you**__ can alleviate that kind of blame from me."_

_L looked up properly, his dark eyes curious._

"_And why would you blame yourself to that extent in the first place?"_

_Watari paused for another stretched moment._

"…_Because I created him, of course," he replied quietly. "It… it was wrong of me, to be thinking like that. I mean, you… you were no doubt a fluke, L. You're a genius who just so happened to fall into my hands. Tragedy made an orphan of you, and if that tragedy had never struck… well, no doubt you would still be the great detective that you are, but __**I**__ wouldn't have the credit of being the one to have discovered one truly gleaming jewel amongst hundreds."_

"_What are you saying, Watari?"_

"_I'm saying that it was wrong of me to think that I could create more of you. Clones, other Ls, in case anything should happen to you. It seemed like a good idea at the time, to raise heirs to inherit your title, but when I consider it now, when…"_

"_Both A and B are simply unfortunate cases, Watari. It's not your fault that A killed himself, and it's not your fault that B… well, that B appears to have turned into a serial killer."_

"_But if only I hadn't forced the prospect of being L on them… They weren't the same as you; ingenious, certainly, but their personalities were different to yours and I was trying to turn them __**into**__ you—"_

"_Watari, I will not sit here and listen to you blaming yourself for three deaths that could never have been foreseen," L interrupted firmly. "How much wiser man would be if he could see what the future holds, but alas, it is a power denied to us. You would be responsible only if you had known that B would turn out like this – but since you didn't, and couldn't have, the fault does not lie with you."_

"_L, you don't understand." And when L opened his mouth to protest against that, Watari headed him off; "No, I'm sorry, but you don't. You truly don't. You face B now only as a detective going up against a murderer. It is hard for you to stand back and observe the fact that this is the clone going up against the original, and that aside… you are not responsible for the creation of that clone. You are only the mould for it."_

"_Then, as the "original", as you put it, it's my responsibility to put a stop to the clone."_

_Watari gave a small nod, going quiet again._

"_You've read _Frankenstein_, haven't you?" he asked eventually, the tone offish, as though a lazy, undemanding question._

"_Not for a while. I think I was about fifteen when I read it, but yes, I have."_

"_That is what I think of," Watari said. "The moment you showed me that connection between the ages, made it clear that you knew that B was behind this, I thought of Frankenstein. An idealistic man with the arrogant idea to create something as perfect as the original model, who instead created only a monster."_

"_How fanciful, Watari," L remarked drolly._

"_Perhaps; but accurate too, at least from my perspective. B is just like that scientist's monster – he was supposed to be perfect, he was supposed to mirror you in every way, but… it didn't turn out as I had hoped. He was imperfect, and then, just like Victor Frankenstein's creation, he went off into the world by himself, angered by rejection and thirsting for revenge, which he took in the form of murder."_

"_No, Watari, you're wrong. It isn't __**revenge**__ that B wants, not at all."_

_L even allowed a slight nuance of a smile to touch his features._

"…_It's __**me**__."_

* * *

…Still, the mental picture of Watari wearing a white lab coat yelling "It's alive!" while lightning cracks _is_ fairly amusing.

:)

RobinRocks xXx

(…And I had a same-syllable pen-name before I had even heard _Death Note existed_, so thankyou to everyone over on _Poison Apple_ who so _kindly_ pointed out that if I ever met B, he would probably kill me… You guys rock. Not.)


	3. III: Dracula

Okay, most important announcement:

I said that _Scarlet Letter_ would be **six** chapters. Whilst this is still technically true, the chapter count has now been extended to **seven** because I have decided to put the last segment of chapter six into a chapter of its own.

So, yeah… nothing earth-shattering, but just a heads-up.

Glad everybody is enjoying _Scarlet Letter_ so far! Thanks to: **LawliPop, Layalas, SoraXNamine, DragonGurl57, DoYouFindMeDreadful, NeikRider, Death-to-the-tadpoleclowns, UnknownZero, Shadow-L-Chan, BlakValentyne-U69, Ayachan, FyireChildesDream, Tamouri, TwistedLilBarbie, Sioen, Svadilfari **and **TehMarill**.

Oh, looky who it is. Somebody better give Buffy a call…

III – Dracula

"Are you sleepy, Light-kun?"

L was looking over at Light, who was reading notes on the LA BB case with difficulty now that he appeared to be very tired; he had yawned more than once and his eyes were heavy.

"I'm okay," Light muttered, shaking his head.

"Because you can go to bed if you are tired," L went on, ignoring the boy's last statement.

"I said I was okay," Light snapped irritably.

"Tiredness leads to sloppiness."

Light slammed the sheets down in annoyance.

"Are you _deaf_?!" he blazed.

"No, Light-kun; and I am also not blind, which is how I am able to observe that you are, in fact, very tired indeed."

Fuming, Light turned away from him again, going back to his work.

"Please do not feel that you owe me a night's work on this case due to your unconsciousness for most of the day," L said pleasantly, not seeming to mind being ignored. "An unconscious state and sleeping are not the same thing. It is natural for you to feel tired even after being comatose for such a long period of time."

"Well, I'm _not_ tired, so leave me alone so I can read this."

L shrugged.

"Please yourself."

Light shot him a poisonous look, adjusting his position where he was lying up against the headboard the bed to get more comfortable.

L, meanwhile, got up and went over to the side where the built-in facility cabinet was bolted to the wall, pawing through the little ceramic trays.

"Would you like a cup of coffee, Light-kun?" he queried over his shoulder, picking up a kettle that looked as though it had seen much better days – the Swinging Sixties, for example.

Light glanced up, determinedly stifling a yawn.

"Oh, yes, thankyou, Ryuzaki," he replied, shaking his head to clear it. "That would be great." He noticed that L was smirking at him and scowled. "What?!" he demanded.

"Nothing." L turned away to make the coffee with the appearance of trying not to laugh. "I didn't say anything."

"I'm _not_ tired!"

L _did_ laugh now.

"You sound like a small child very determined not to go to bed, Light-kun."

"Oh, shut up."

"Hm? Well, as my friend, isn't it good that you amuse me, Light-kun?"

"I'm not here to "amuse" you!" Light spat. "I'm here to help you catch a murderer that _you've_ failed to catch twice already."

"How kind of you to remind me of my flaws." L's tone was distinctively cooler now as he brought over the cups of coffee – cheap, instant granules in stained mugs as opposed to the fresh, filtered coffee in dainty porcelain cups. "Here's your coffee."

"Thanks," said Light, taking it and not bothering to apologise about his earlier statement.

"What do you think of B and his idea of getting my attention so far?" L asked, sitting next to the boy and nodding at the hand-written notes on the Los Angeles killings.

"Sickening," Light murmured, leafing thought sheets again with his cup suspended halfway to his mouth. "I mean, it's absolutely _ingenious_, but… so _depraved_ and—"

"B is exactly the kind of criminal that Kira would kill, don't you think?" L interrupted innocently.

"Yes, I'd say so." Light noticed L watching him and didn't even bother to glance in the detective's direction. "I'm not biting, I'm afraid."

"No." L seemed disappointed. "You never seem to, Light-kun. Maybe it's because you're too clever—"

"—Or because I'm not Kira."

"I think you are," L said simply, sipping at his coffee.

"I know you do," was all the reply Light gave to that; he gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "Anyway, we're not here to catch Kira, _are_ we? At the moment, we have another agenda."

"Indeed."

Light gave a nod to L's affirmation, taking a drink of his own coffee.

He shuddered.

"You put _sugar_ in it…!" he hissed.

L blinked.

"You take sugar in coffee, don't you?"

"I take _one_ sugar, not _twenty_-one!"

"That's an exaggeration, Light-kun. I put seven spoonfuls in yours – which is _multiple_ of twenty-one, granted, but still not nearly as high." L frowned. "Honestly, Light-kun, you react to sugar as a vampire would to garlic."

Light pulled a face at him, at which L offered out his own cup.

"We can swap, if you'd prefer."

"How many sugars are in yours?"

"Ten."

Light pushed it away.

"Ugh, keep it," he muttered. "I'll just have to wash my mouth out with acid before I go to bed…"

"Such ridiculous exaggerations, Light-kun. You really are quite the drama queen, I must say."

"Not as much as _B_ seems to be," Light retorted icily, brandishing the LA BB case-notes. "I mean, turning the corpse of his third victim into a _clock_…?"

"Ah, but nothing is sure to grab an investigator's attention more so than a carefully-arranged and highly imaginative crime scene," L mused pleasantly. "Sickening, yes. Depraved, certainly. Headline-grabbing, without a doubt. If you want people to pay attention to you, you have to be _original_, Light-kun. You can't just copy – or _be_ a copy – of someone else." L took another long drink of his sickly-sweet coffee, apparently enjoying it, which was something that Light simply couldn't understand. "This is a law of human society – it crosses all boundaries. A book, a movie, a song, an _idea_… it has to be fresh or have a new spin to it for anyone to sit up and take notice of it. And, naturally, this applies to crime as well. This much credit I will give to Kira – he's new. The world has never seen anything like him or his methods before, and so they respond to him. And whilst B might not have a list of victims a mile long to match Kira's, he too knows how to be original when it comes to murdering someone."

"Surely there are other things to excel in at being original," Light replied coolly.

"Of course there are – though it must be said that _all_ originality only spawns copycats. Nothing stays unique for very long. Contemporary example: The Second Kira." L gnawed at his thumbnail for a moment or two when Light again refused to rise to the bait. "Alright, here's an interesting one. _Vampires_."

"Vampires aren't real," Light said icily.

"They certainly aren't – they are fictional beings, undead but sustained in animation via the drinking of the blood of the living. A Victorian invention, incidentally – though the actual credit for their creation may not be due to him, let's acknowledge Bram Stoker as the inventor of the vampire, given that his, _Dracula_, is by far the most famous. Now, I say the "_most_ famous" because, as you well know, Count Dracula isn't the only vampire skulking around the realm of fiction. Look at all the books, TV shows, films, comics, manga… quite frankly, they're _everywhere_. It's just an example of a unique idea that utterly failed to stay unique. In fact, I would even go so far as to say that now vampires are rather… _cliché_."

"Well done," Light responded sarcastically, giving up on his coffee and yawning. "You noticed that vampires are completely overdone. You sure earned your title of 'World's Greatest Detective', Ryuzaki."

"You seem even grouchier than usual, Light-kun," L said mildly. "I really think you should get some sleep."

Light gave a groan – which, by the by, _did_ sound rather tired – and put the sheets down on the night-table.

"_Fine_," he bit out, "though it's more because I can't take much more of _you_ telling _me_ how tired I am."

"Is it wrong to be concerned about the wellbeing of my friend?"

"Like hell you're concerned about my wellbeing," Light snapped, getting up and flouncing off towards the bathroom. "If you were, you wouldn't have kidnapped me or tried to poison me with that crap you call coffee…"

"It's alright, I'll finish yours," L replied in a manner as syrupy as the drink itself, already reaching for it.

Light paused at the door to the tiny bathroom, scowling.

"That was your plan all along, wasn't it?" he accused.

"Light-kun knows me too well. Or, at least, he _thinks_ he does."

Light rolled his eyes in irritation.

"Whatever, Ryuzaki…"

L was nibbling at a biscuit when Light came back out of the bathroom following a very severe brushing of his teeth; the boy scowled at him as he changed for bed.

"Do you brush your teeth?" he snapped, making the detective look at him.

"Of course I do."

"I bet you still have a ridiculous number of cavities."

L shrugged.

"Sugar helps me keep focused on my work."

"_I_ don't seem to have that problem," Light responded complacently.

"Perhaps Light-kun is a very special case, then. Perhaps he is a _god_."

Light gave a groan of disgust and got into bed.

"I guess I walked into that one," he muttered blackly, "but I still wish you'd shut up."

"I expect you do."

L didn't say anything else, apparently preoccupied with whatever work he was doing; Light, meanwhile, was rather preoccupied himself with writhing around in bed, hunting in vain for a spot in this truly uncomfortable excuse for a bed where he wasn't being molested by springs long ago bent out of shape.

"Light-kun, if you're going to do that, please go in the bathroom," L said without missing a beat in response to the creaking of the bed and Light's irritated groans at being skewered in the spine no matter how he lay.

"Shut _up_, you pervert!" Light spat, sitting up and throwing one of the lumpy pillows at him. "I'm not jerking off, I'm trying to get comfortable!"

He flopped back to the unmerciful mattress again in annoyance.

"This is your fault, anyway," he went on bitterly. "You picked this room."

"I apologise that it is not to your liking, Light-kun," L said blandly, not sounding particularly sorry at all.

"Well…" Light lay quiet for a moment, debating. "…I didn't want to ask, because it seems rude, and I apologise for that, but… what is _with_ this room, Ryuzaki? All those hotels you stay in back in Japan, they're all five-star suites with king-sized beds and room service… So I guess I just figured that it would be the same here in London. Why would you want to stay in this tiny old little room when you can – and you _obviously_ can – stay anywhere you want to?"

"That's like asking why Dracula slept in a coffin when he owned an entire castle—"

"_Enough_ with the vampires!" Light snapped, glaring at the detective, who in turn had turned his gaze on the younger man. "Look, you don't have to tell me if you really don't want to, I won't be offended, but… I just think it's odd. I don't understand why you'd choose to come _here_, of all places—"

"Because, Light-kun," L interrupted quietly, "this is Room 13, and it has a very important significance to me."

* * *

"_I think I gave you too much."_

_Those seven words were the first L heard on opening his eyes; his head ached, the pain focused at the temples as though a migraine, though he was not prone to them._

_He followed the direction of the voice, knowing what he would find despite the fact that he recognised it – because this was a possibility that he hadn't ruled out to begin with._

_B was doing it for attention – __**his**__ attention – after all._

"_Drugs, I mean," B said when L's glazed eyes met with his._

_L gave an absent nod as though in agreement and turned his gaze upwards towards the ceiling._

"_Hey," B said indignantly, nudging him. "Aren't you going to say anything?"_

_L didn't react to him at all, partly still insulated by the drugs in his system and partly due to insolence towards his captive._

"_Look at me!" B demanded, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look in his direction. "Is this it? After everything I've done, after knocking you out and bringing you all the way here, you're really going to say nothing?"_

"_What would you like me to say, Beyond?" L sighed softly. "My heir goes missing from Wammy's House, only to turn up three months later in London killing people? What am I __**supposed**__ to say to you?"_

_B was silent, apparently having no answer, though he still dug his wiry fingers into L's jaw._

"_Do you want me to congratulate you for being so clever?" L went on. "For not leaving behind any evidence at each of the crime scenes? For being so cryptically ingenious in getting my attention and mine alone? Or perhaps not. Perhaps you just did this to get a reaction out of me. Do you want me to be angry and disgusted with you? I don't understand, B. I don't understand what you want or what I'm supposed to say." _

"_I've tied you to the bed," B responded sharply, changing the subject._

"_I can see that."_

"_So you're my prisoner now."_

"_It would seem that way."_

"_And nobody knows where you are," B said gleefully. "Not even Watari."_

"_I don't know where I am either, B," L reasoned. _

"_Room 13."_

"…_Of course."_

"_It's just you and me, all by ourselves," B crooned, running his fingers down the side of L's face and onto his neck._

"_I wish you wouldn't do that, B."_

_B giggled softly._

"_What, touch you?"_

"_Dress like me."_

"_I like how you dress." B shifted himself so that he was sitting on top of his predecessor, tangling his thin fingers in his black hair. "I like everything about you. I like how you look, I like how you talk, I like how you act." _

"…_I know you do." L tried to shake him loose but B clung on, leaning down close to him. _

"_Well, you're mine now," B murmured, nuzzling against him with twisted affection. "You're here, all mine, and you have to pay attention to me because I'm the only one who knows you're here."_

"_Are you going to kill me, B?" _

_B glanced up, blinking in surprise; the make-up underneath his left eye had smeared downwards over his cheek._

"_Why would I kill you?"_

"_Why would you kill anyone?"_

"_If it was their time to die." B smiled, brushing L's hair away from his dark eyes. "But it's not yours. Not yet." _

_B pressed his mouth to L's throat, biting against it; not hard enough to break skin and draw blood, but with enough force to make the detective snap his head back with a gasp of discomfort._

"_I'm not going to hurt you, L," B murmured against his skin._

"_Now why don't… I believe that?" L hissed in reply. "Given your recent credentials—"_

"_But you know me," B interrupted softly. "Why would I hurt you? I love you more than anyone does."_

"_If you'd __**kill**__ people just to get my attention, it's not love, Beyond."_

"_But it's the only thing that would bring you to me," B replied coldly. "Isn't it, L? Only a crime would have drawn you here."_

"_B, what do you __**want**__?" L asked in exasperation, feeling the hands of his mirror image trail down his chest. _

"_You, L." B kissed his cheek. "Just you. I don't want anything __**from**__ you – forgiveness, acceptance, revulsion. Just you is fine, so that no-one else can have you."_

"_B… Beyond, let me go. Come on, we'll go back to Wammy's House." L was saying this even as B slid down, settling on his thighs. "You… you aren't—"_

"_Sane?" B gave a little laugh. "Of course not. If I was sane, I wouldn't give a damn about you, would I? At least not to this extent. Though it is interesting how everyone comes to the same conclusion – a serial killer __**must**__ be insane." _

"_B, let's not do this," L said firmly; though powerless to stop the younger man as he unzipped first his captive's jeans and then his own. "You're in enough trouble already, to put it mildly."_

_B's eyes gleamed._

"_And you really think you're going to convict me, do you?" He pressed his palm against L's crotch through his shorts, earning a groan that was part discomfort and part pleasure. "If you're the world's greatest detective then I'm the world's greatest criminal, and that means that it is equally as likely that I'll get away with my killing spree as it is that you'll arrest me for it."_

"_Beyond… stop this… I know this isn't… your fault, but don't make it… worse…"_

"_You don't have to make excuses for me, L – if it isn't my fault that I kill people, then whose is it? Society's? Watari's? __**Yours**__?"_

"_It's nobody's fault that you're like this, Beyond – it's just your mind, you… You're ill, B. You do know that, don't you?"_

"_And what do you propose we do about that, L?" B tilted his head, smiling. "Go back to Wammy's House hand-in-hand so they can treat me and take away the nasty illness that makes me do these things?"_

_L frowned up at B._

"_Wouldn't… Isn't that what you'd… want?" he asked carefully._

"_But then I wouldn't be me anymore, L." B giggled softly, stroking his captive's face again. _

"_You aren't you anymore anyway, B," L replied, a quiet desperation tinting his voice; looking up at the younger man, nothing but a self-made spliced reflection of himself. "You're… you're just… you're __**me**__."_

_B blinked._

"_But I thought that's who I was meant to be," he said. "L."_

"_That's not… not what you were meant—"_

"_Shh." B smiled, pressing his finger to L's lips. "You're still drugged. It's probably better if you don't talk."_

_B lay his head down on L's chest at this, when the detective gave no further answer; smiling at the rise and fall of his chest beneath his cheek. _

"_I can feel you breathing," he whispered. He rested his chin on L's breastbone, smiling up at him. _

"_Beyond, get off me, please."_

"_Don't you like me touching you?" B smirked, his eyes glinting. "…How about kissing you?" _

_B kissed L's throat, dragging his mouth up from the hollow of it, over his jugular and along his jaw; then clasping his prisoner's chin to kiss him full on the mouth when he tried to turn away._

"_Don't you like this? Aren't I allowed to…?" B kissed L on the cheek. "I don't understand. Why aren't I allowed to—?" _

"_Beyond, that's enough!"_

_B gave yet another breathy little laugh._

"_Enough? Enough talking. Yes." He sat back, pawing at L's crotch again through the fabric of his shorts. "I have this idea, L; well, a thought, really. If you're L then I'm not – I'm just your next-in-line. If nothing ever happens to you, then I'll probably never get to be L at all, I'll just be B for Backup forever. But then… if something happens to you I become L, but then what are you? Even if you die, aren't you still L? We can't both be L so it seems fair if neither of us is L but then if neither of us is L then there will be no L at all. I just don't know what we should do about that, L."_

_B stroked a little of L's hair aside from his forehead, his other hand still caressing his crotch, careful ministrations causing L's breathing to deepen and his struggles to become more profuse._

"_I say your name a lot, L," B said. "L, L, L. Do you mind, L?"_

"_Yes, I mind—" L cut himself off with a hiss of annoyance as B suddenly grabbed the hem of his shorts and tore them down with unnecessary force. "Beyond, stop it!"_

"_No, no, __**listen**__, L." B pressed his fingers to L's mouth again. "Listen. I have an idea. I thought… if __**you**__ were B, I could be L. That would work, wouldn't it? There can't be two of you, only one, only one L… and if I'm you then there can't be another one of you, so you would have to be B—"_

"_But I'm __**not**__ B, you are!" L spat, tugging at his binds. "Don't you understand, Beyond? No matter how much you want to be me, to be L… you aren't, and even if I died and you inherited my title, you still wouldn't __**be**__ me, you'd be Beyond Birthday working under the name 'L'."_

"_But I look like you. Who is to say that anybody would be able to tell that I __**wasn't**__ you?"_

"_Because I'm not a lunatic!" L hissed up at the younger man. _

"_How hurtful." B smiled indulgently, licking his fingers as though cleaning them. "Besides, you already excused me my mental state. You said that none of this was my fault."_

"_That doesn't mean I'm going to let you carry on behaving like this!"_

"_I don't know if I'd be able to best you in physical combat, L," B said sweetly, taking his fingers from his mouth, "so let's settle things a different way."_

_B's wet fingertips touched the end of L's shaft, tracing down the length of it and down underneath to feel for his entrance; L twisted beneath the younger man's touch, his skin crawling at the feel of it despite the arousal B had already sparked in his body and kept a tight rein on. B smiled at the sight of the man he revered so biting at his bottom lip in both agitation and self-restraint, leaning down to kiss him and swallow his sound of discomfort as the first of his fingers slipped past the tight muscle barrage, quickly followed by the second._

"_B… don't…!" L hissed, writhing in a pain that was not entirely agonizing, yet undeniably severely uncomfortable. _

"_No, I have to." B slid his third finger in with a little difficulty, silencing L's cry of pain with his other hand. "Shh, no, it's not just because… because it would hurt more if I didn't do this, but because… well, why do I have to do this at all? You know why, L." _

"_B, it won't… won't make us… into one person…!" L managed to get out between gritted teeth. _

_B seemed to be largely ignoring him now, sliding his fingers out again; he kicked off his own jeans and hopped off the bed, going over to the little cabinet bolted to the stained wall and retrieving the one thing – apart from L – he appeared to have brought with him. _

"_Want some jam, L?" he asked, pinning an innocent tone to his voice as he unscrewed the lid. "It's sweet, just as you like." He dipped his fingers into the jar, coating them in that sticky red substance and offering them out towards his prisoner. "Strawberries. You like strawberries, don't you, L? You always have them on cake. I don't like cake very much but I thought that there must be something good about strawberries since you like them so much, so I like strawberry jam best."_

_L turned his face away from B's sticky fingers, saying nothing._

"_No?" B licked his own fingers clean of jam. "I thought you would like it. I brought it especially for you, because it's strawberry flavour." B smiled, bringing the jar up to his mouth and licking from it like a cat. "Do you know what else I like about jam, L?"_

_L spared him a tired, silent glance; then shook his head._

"_It's red," B said gleefully, his voice hushed as though whispering a secret. "Red is such a pretty colour, and strawberry jam is the reddest. It's red like blood." _

_He looked up towards L on this; and indeed, the jam now smeared down his chin from where he'd been lapping it straight from the jar resembled a trail of blood that had welled over his lip, reminiscent of some kind of vampiric figure. _

"_B, this is your last chance," L said firmly, meeting the younger man's gaze. "If you stop this right now, it can stay between you and me."_

_B giggled delightedly._

"_Are you bargaining with me?" He wiped the jam off his chin on the back of his hand, licking it thoughtfully. "Interesting… but no sale, I'm afraid. …You won't tell anyone about this anyway. You'd be too ashamed to say a word about it." _

"_I—"_

"_No, L." B was busy with his jam again, scooping out a handful of it. "You won't say a word." _

_And as L watched him in horror, B slipped down his own shorts and took a firm hold of his own arousal with the hand painted red with strawberry jam, coating himself with it and closing his eyes as though enjoying doing so immensely. _

"_B, you… you can't—" L started, sickened by the spectacle – maybe because B had a point, that jam really did look quite like—_

"_L." B sighed it, as though exhibiting a saint's patience with a small child. He opened his gleaming eyes, smiling lazily at the detective. "Do you forget who you're dealing with? If you are confused as to why your own heir won't obey you, then consider that I am also in fact… a wanted murderer."_

"_And are you going to kill me?" L asked carefully._

"_No." B removed his hand from himself, wiping the excess jam off on his discarded jeans. "I already said that I wouldn't kill you. It's not your time to die yet, and I expect that, when you do, it will not be by my hand." He grinned. "No promises on that last part, though – just a guess."_

_He leaned up over L, hands pressing into the pillow at either side of the detective's head. _

"_Incidentally," he whispered, "I can't promise that __**this**__ will be any good. I've never done it before, but I'm sure you knew that, L. Anyway, I apologise in advance if I completely disappoint you. It's not really about enjoyment, of course; it's just necessity. I just have to have you, and, well… you know the rest, don't you, L?"_

"_B, you have no ide-agh!" The tremor of agony shot right through L, cracking at his voice, as B clumsily thrust himself in, the jam unpleasant and doing little to make it smoother. "…B, for… god's sake, don't!"_

_B laughed breathlessly._

"_It's too late," he murmured happily, pressing his face against L's shoulder. "Too late, too late, L…"_

_B raised himself up again, hands sliding to L's hips as he started to rock against him; and for a long time, even as he quickened up his pace to a speed that was almost frantic, every thrust clumsy and lucid of B's youth – heir, lunatic, murderer, yet still only a teenager – he was completely silent but for his breathing. _

_L bit his lip against the pain and the groans that were half-pleasure and half-agony – B was so clumsy in this act that he'd managed to unintentionally slam against L's prostate quite a few times, but then he missed repeatedly in between so that the uncoordinated manner of the entire thing was just as uncomfortable as the sex in the first place. _

"_It's okay, B," B suddenly breathed out, reaching up to stroke L's hair; apparently completely unaware that he'd just referred to the detective using his own codename. _

"_I'm L," L spat, shaking his head out of B's reach._

_B frowned._

"_No, B, I'm L," he said, though he sounded less certain of it this time. "You mustn't get confused, B."_

"_B, stop this," L panted, suddenly thoroughly unnerved; the rape he could take, because it was physical, but this… this wasn't an act. B seemed genuinely bewildered, even rubbing at his forehead. _

"_Don't call me B!" the younger man cried. "I'm not B, I'm L! You're B!" B grabbed a handful of L's shirt, twisting it aggressively. "Don't you get it? You're just B, B for Backup! You're nothing, you're worthless, second-best! You'll never be L because __**I'm**__ L!"_

_He let go of L's top, his expression and tone suddenly softening._

"_But that's okay," he said quietly, "because… because…"_

_B trailed off, his eyes widening; and then he stopped moving against his captive completely._

"_Because," he said again; he gave a shake of his head, his expression growing desperate, as though he didn't know how to finish the sentence. "…I… I don't…"_

_He slid himself back out of L and got off the bed, kneeling on the floor beside it and reaching up for L with shaking hands._

"_I'm sorry, L," he said very quietly; apparently realising who he was again. He blinked a few times. "…Are you L?"_

"_Yes, B. I am," L said wearily._

_B was silent for a long time._

"_Okay," he said finally. "Then I'm…"_

"_B. You're B. And I never said it stood for Backup." L was talking to the ceiling rather than his renegade heir. "It could stand for anything. Brilliant. Bright. Beloved."_

"_But I'm none of those things, am I?" B replied blandly, getting up. "I'm sure you think B fits Bitter, Bonkers or Bastard more so than it does any of those." He smiled coldly. "Though it could stand for Better – as in, Better than L."_

_He headed across the room towards the tiny bathroom._

"_I'm going to go take a shower," he said, his voice suddenly oddly detached again; he didn't even look at L, whoever he thought he was. "I want you gone by the time I come back."_

_He went in and shut the door behind him, the ancient hinges rattling. _

_Incidentally, L didn't think he meant that last sentiment for quite a few reasons, the most prominent of which being that he'd left him tied to the bed. _

* * *

Oh, B. He's nuts.

:)

You probably have a lot of questions arising from your perusal of this chapter.

Ha ha, I'm not answering them. You have to wait and see.

Nyah. :D

RobinRocks xXx


	4. IV: Sweeney Todd

Ah, Sweeney Todd. This is one I would have used anyway, even if Tim Burton hadn't made such an awesome movie out of it.

But he did. And I just bought it the other day. Good times. :)

Thankyou to: **DoYouFindMeDreadful, LawliPop, TheAutumnEffect, Neikrider, PirateCaptainBo, SoraXNamie, uncmeister, TehMerill, Shadow-L-Chan, Ayachan **and **Silverfox**.

I have actually finished writing _Scarlet Letter_ now. It's a whole seven chapters of B being mad…

_-Cackle-_

IV – Sweeney Todd

Light awoke abruptly in the middle of the night; partly because he was cold, partly because the bed was so uncomfortable and partly because L was sitting on him.

"Oh, god…" Light moaned sleepily, batting ineffectually at him. "What do you want _now_?"

"Hm?" L tilted his head. "Nothing, Light-kun. I mean to say… you do not have to _do_ anything."

Light gave a tired sigh, opening his eyes properly. The room was still dark, lit only by the laptop in standby mode on the floor.

"Why are you sitting on me?" he tried again, pushing at L's chest. "Get off!"

"Am I heavy?"

"No, but… but that's not the _point_!" Light snapped, shoving at him again.

"Light-kun, don't push me. It's dangerous."

Light blinked at him.

"Wh— _Dangerous_? What the hell—?"

"Because," L interrupted; and though he said nothing more than this, he reached over and flipped on the bedside lamp, at once illuminating both the room and the reason for his harping at Light not to shove him.

There was a knife clutched in his right hand, the edge of the blade very close to Light's throat.

"What… what are you doing?" Light breathed. "Have you gone _insane_?"

"No." L lifted the knife away from Light's neck, allowing the boy to sit up a little, his eyes still on the knife. "I am not going to hurt you, Light-kun."

"This had better not be about Kira—"

"No," L interrupted icily. "Hard as it may be for you to believe, Light-kun, not everything is about _Kira_. No…" L toyed with the knife idly, suspending it handle to point by the tips of his forefingers. "…This is about _me_."

Light blinked again in confusion.

"I… I don't understand…"

L was silent for a moment or two, averting his gaze from Light.

"No, of course… how could you…" he murmured, more to himself. "I… I was just trying something, trying to see it… from…"

He got off Light's chest, curling up against the headboard beside him, the knife clutching precariously between his finger and thumb by the handle, tip pointing downwards.

"Are… you alright?" Light asked after a moment or two, sitting up properly and turning towards him.

"Yes, of course." L held the knife up a little, glancing at his reflection in it. "…I'm fine."

"You seem kind of distracted," Light tried again.

"You could say that." L gave a small sigh, glancing at Light through thorns of black hair. "…It's this _room_, Light-kun."

Light blinked.

"The… room?" He frowned. "I know… you said that it has some kind of significance to you, but… well, you never said what it was. I just figured it was because it's Room 13, like you said, but…"

"Yes, that is true," L agreed. "This _is_ Room 13. But if that were merely the issue, I could have taken the thirteenth room in a better hotel than this."

"Well, yeah, I thought that," Light said pointedly, "but I also thought that maybe your reason for taking this room was… well, personal."

L nodded.

"It is," he replied absently. "However, I will share the reason with you, if you would care to listen."

"Of course, Ryuzaki."

"…Light-kun, while we are here, could you please not call me that? I would prefer 'L'."

Light gave a bewildered nod.

"Okay, if that's what you want…"

L didn't respond to this, instead giving another little sigh and letting the knife drop to the bedsheets.

"B," he said at length. "…He brought me here, to this very room."

Light stared at him.

"…When?"

"Oh, it was a several years ago now. During the time of his first London murders, in fact."

"Why? And… and how?"

"He drugged and kidnapped me, as I did to you. As careful as I am, it was probably easy for him to do. He is very good at breaking in and out of places without leaving any evidence, as the notes on the BB LA case will no doubt have told you."

"Didn't Watari… I mean, how did he get past him?"

"I expect he drugged Watari too…" L trailed off, fidgeting with his cuff; then took a little breath. "…Very well, I suppose I cannot keep it a secret forever."

Light blinked.

"What… secret?"

"B… _looks_ like me. Uncannily so."

"What, is… is he related to you?" Light asked, frowning. "Is he your _brother_ or something?"

"No, we're not related at all. He does not resemble me naturally – we share the same hair and skin colour, but he has deliberately made himself look like me. It's… unsettling. I would imagine it would be very difficult to tell us apart, particularly so if we are not together." L looked away towards the wall. "That's… probably how he got past Watari and managed to drug both of us – Watari thought he was _me_."

Light was silent for a long while, trying to imagine what that might be like – to have some whack-job who both loved and hated you so much they actually made themselves look like you, then used the disguise to kidnap you so that they could cut their initial into your skin.

It wasn't a scenario he much liked, to say the least.

"There must be _some_ way of telling you apart," he said firmly.

L looked back at him.

"If we were stranding together," he reasoned, "it is likely that you would be able to tell which of us is which – apart, and it's quite a different story. That being said, you are correct – there _is_ a way. B has a scar on his right wrist. It's an 'L'."

Light blinked, unsettled.

"…So what did he want with you?" he asked eventually. "He obviously didn't want to kill you, or you wouldn't be sitting here right now, right?"

"No, I… My relationship with B is… _complicated_, to say the least. The feelings he harbours towards me are far from simple and clear. He simultaneously loves and despises me, he wants to make me proud of him and yet at the same time wants to _be_ me, and there can be no doubt that there are also confused sexual feelings in there somewhere too…"

"That doesn't explain what he wanted from you," Light pointed out.

"I can't answer that question, Light-kun, because I don't _know_ what he wanted… and I don't think B knew, either."

"What did he do to you, just keep you locked up in this room?"

"Well, yes, the door was locked, but he tied me to the bed. _This_ bed." L's voice dropped considerably, and he hesitated for a while before speaking again. "…He… raped me."

Light was severely taken aback by this, his chocolate eyes widening.

"He _raped_ you?" he repeated. "You're telling me that on top of being some nutjob psychotic murderer he also kidnapped the world's greatest detective, tied him to a bed and raped him?"

"It… it's complicated, as I said," L responded finally, twisting his fingers together distractedly. "It was strange, he… he didn't seem to know who he was, he called _me_ 'B' during it, and he… he didn't even finish… It wasn't about dominance, it was… well, I don't _know_ what it was about, what he wanted from it…"

"Jeez…" Light leaned back against the headboard. "…And you wanted to come back to this room, after _that_?"

"I had to."

Light had no reply to give to this, and L said nothing else either.

"…Did, uh… did he rape you more than once?" Light finally asked tentatively.

"No. Only once. He didn't keep me here for very long – not even two days."

"What's with the knife?" Light asked, nodding at the weapon lying on the bedsheets.

L picked up the knife again in response, tilting it from side to side to examine the play of the lamplight on the glinting edge of the blade.

"He's my shadow," he said finally. "My burden. He always has been, and we both know it. I have left a mark upon him, and in turn… he decided to leave a mark upon me."

Light stared at him.

"…Wait, you mean he…?"

It was difficult to know if Light had been about to make the correct deduction – even the boy himself didn't know for sure; but L answered his question nonetheless, kneeling up and lifting the hem of his white top. Low down on his stomach, towards his right hip and floating on pale flesh above the waistline of his jeans, was a scar in the shape of a careful, distinctive 'B'.

"Oh, god…" Light gripped at a handful of his own hair, perhaps restraining himself from recoiling in horror. "…He _carved_ that into you?!"

L nodded silently, letting his top slide down again to conceal it.

"Sitting on top of me, with a knife," he replied calmly. "That's why I was sitting on top of you, with a knife, when you awoke. I was trying to get into his mind, seeing as we're searching for him…"

"Any joy?"

"I'm afraid not."

Light gave a small shudder.

"We have to catch this guy quickly," he resolved firmly, looking at the detective. "…I have to say, I'm impressed by you."

"Why is that, Light-kun?"

"Because you're alright after going through… _that_."

L smiled faintly.

"Do I seem "alright" to you? That is good to know, Light-kun. Thankyou for the compliment. Though… if you must know, there is a reason as to _why_ I am alright."

"Like what?"

L gave an absent shrug.

"Because I am not afraid of him," he said. "I never have been."

He put the knife down on the bedside table, his gaze still on Light.

"Do you hate him?" the boy asked after a long moment.

"Yes," L replied tonelessly. "I hate him." He paused. "…But I don't hate Light-kun."

Light blinked.

"But you think I'm Kira."

"That doesn't mean that I hate Light-kun." He leaned towards Light. "I like Light-kun very much. Much, much better than _B_."

"Well, you said you hated B," Light pointed out, "so you saying that you like me better than B probably still isn't saying much."

"Of course it is." L kissed him, his hands going to Light's shoulders; then broke away, resting his head too on Light's shoulder. "B is nothing to me."

Light wiped at his mouth, stunned.

"Look," he hissed finally, "I know we've kissed before, but…"

"At university."

"Yeah." Light felt L grip his shoulders tighter still. "I just don't think… we should be—"

"No, it's because I told you that B raped me. I wondered how you might react."

"It's not that." Light gave an irritated snort. "Come on, like you even really like me like that."

"I am very attracted to Light-kun." L looked up again, meeting Light's gaze. "But are you going to reject me? Will you leave me with only B? Because I don't love B." L kissed at Light's throat; against where he had held the knife previously. "I love _you_."

Light seemed quite stunned by this too, but allowed L to push him down to the mattress, devouring his throat. All he did was slide his hand beneath the hem of L's shirt, running his fingers over the smooth, scarred skin that had healed over that stark 'B'.

"B for Backup," L murmured against Light's throat on feeling him touch the scar. "How could anyone love him?"

"Do you hate him?" Light asked again, softer still.

"Yes. B. _I hate him_."

* * *

_L hadn't truly been asleep, but he started violently and his eyes snapped open; partly because he was uncomfortable, partly because he'd just had cold water splashed on his face and partly because B was sitting on him. _

"_I brought you some water," B said lullingly, showing him the glass. "You must be thirsty. Hungry, too, I should imagine, but I don't have any food here except for jam, and you already refused that…"_

_L immediately thought to refuse the water too – god only knew what B had put into it…_

"_I haven't done anything to it," B said, seemingly reading his mind. "Please, L, you must drink. You'll die if you don't. Besides…" He held up the knife clutched in his other hand. "…I have other ways of hurting you, if I so wish. So, please… drink."_

_Still dubious, L eyed the knife warily – poison wasn't really B's style, he was too fond of blood, and there might be a bit of that splashing about if he didn't pacify his renegade heir. Besides, he couldn't deny that he was incredibly thirsty, having gone a very long number of hours without anything to drink. _

_He gave a small, defeated nod and B brought the glass to his lips, using the hand holding the knife to go behind his head and help him drink. Once it was drained B put the glass aside on the table, wiping L's mouth off on his own sleeve._

"_Do you feel better now?" he crooned, letting the detective's head go back to the pillow. _

_L gave another nod, still with his eyes on the knife._

"_I am not going to hurt you, L," B said, waving the knife from side to side. "In fact, I am going to let you go very soon. You aren't going to die here – your time isn't up yet."_

"_Thankyou, Beyond."_

"_We've had fun though, haven't we, L?" B went on, running his hand down L's face. "Haven't you enjoyed your time here with me? Just you and me together…"_

"_It's been delightful, B."_

_B gave a chilling little laugh._

"_Yes, it has, hasn't it?" His thin fingers dug harder into L's jaw. "I'm glad you agree, L… We've had such fun, just you and me, everyone else will be jealous…"_

_L pulled his head free with a grimace, watching B out of the corner of his eye. _

"_This game has to stop," he said in a low voice. "I'm not your prisoner, B. You might have me tied to the bed, keep the door locked, use your own weight to pin me down… but I'm still not your prisoner. I never will be. You know that."_

_B tilted his head._

"_Perhaps you are right," he agreed after a moment's consideration. "If you are imprisoned, there is no escape. …Can I tell you a secret?" B leaned down towards the detective anyway, mouth close to his ear. "I have tried so hard __**to**__ imprison you, L. Why do I fashion myself in your exact likeness? …So that when you look in the mirror, you will see me. L and B, B and L… am I your reflection or are you mine?" B gave a lilting little giggle. "If I am you and you are me, there is no escape. You cannot look upon yourself without looking upon me. You're __**imprisoned**__."_

_B gave a sigh, twirling the knife idly._

"_But perhaps you are right," he said again, eyes gleaming. "Perhaps it is not enough for me to simply take your appearance. When you look in the mirror, there is no doubt in your mind that you are the true L, whilst the mirror is only a copy. There is nothing that… binds you to it." B raked claw-like hands through L's hair. "You're right, it's not enough. It's never enough."_

_He withdrew his hands from L's hair, looking down at them._

"_You have marked me," he whispered, now speaking more to himself. "This, the fact that I look like you, the very __**fact**__ that Beyond Birthday is a mere copy of L Lawliet… is proof of your hold over me, your mark upon me."_

_He gripped the knife tighter in his pale hand._

"…_You need to be marked too," he said icily. "If you are to truly be my prisoner, as I am yours… I have to mark you." _

_L's only response to this was a sudden violent buck upwards, but tied down spread-eagled like this it was difficult to get any leverage; B merely rocked forwards a little, then settled back lower down, his smirk very satisfied._

"_Now, L," he murmured gleefully, "don't make me drug you…"_

_He lifted the hem of L's top, running his gaze over the area of pale skin he'd uncovered; then tracing across it with his fingers, as though he would __**feel**__ the perfect spot to place his vicious little tattoo. _

"_Ah, here, I think…" he decided eventually, eyes glimmering as he pressed the cool flat of the blade against the skin just over L's right hip. _

_L shifted, glaring up at him; it was more difficult to struggle now that B had shifted his weight further down, and now that the younger man had decided where he was going to carve his legacy, he'd moved his legs to hold L's hips still and placed his free hand at the bottom of his ribcage to pin his torso to the mattress._

"_It will sting a little, I expect," he said, mockingly apologetic; and then, without any further word or warning, he pressed the edge of the blade into L's skin, cleaving the first line. The skin split immediately, blood welling like water from dry earth, and L hissed in pain and turned away, but didn't struggle any more than that._

_B was meticulous in his art, but it didn't take him very long to carve a neat capital 'B' into his captive's flesh; and when it was done, he leaned back to admire his workmanship._

"_It's perfect," he decided eventually; he pressed his palm against it, taking the imprint of it in L's blood onto his own skin. "Look," he said, holding out his hand to show L the smudged, backwards 'B'. "Your own scarlet letter – a symbol of all that you are ashamed of, everything you hide. The legacy of your sins, an __**imprisonment**__…" _

_L said nothing; and, growing desperate for a reaction, B took up the knife again._

"_Shall I carve it into your forehead?" he hissed savagely. "Will that serve as a better reminder?"_

_L still said nothing at all, only blinking at his heir impassively; until B's face broke into another shattered smile. _

"_I know," he whispered, holding out his wrist – his right, lifting the cuff. "I know… it doesn't seem fair, right…? If you've marked me just as much…"_

_He pressed the knife into his own skin, biting back a hiss of his own as he quickly sliced an 'L' into his wrist._

"_There," he said, a laugh colouring his voice as he thrust out his bleeding wrist towards L. "Look, now… now I have an 'L', a scarlet letter too, just like yours…"_

"_Beyond," L said – his only response. "In Nathaniel Hawthorne's _Scarlet Letter_, the letter worn by the main protagonist was neither an 'L' nor a 'B'." His gaze met the younger man's, emotionless and impassionate. "It was an 'A'."_

_B's face completely drained of colour; perhaps because L had just belittled his token, or perhaps because he'd mentioned A… A, the first child, the first heir… A, which came before B…_

"_Let's talk about a different story, then," B bit out, his voice a little strangled. "Remember that old _Penny Dreadful_ story, set right here in London… that murderous madman, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street…" B brought the crimson-slicked knife up to L's throat. "…Sweeney Todd? Remember that old story, L? He shaved gentlemen, and then, when their guard was down…" He pressed the blade harder against L's jugular, at an angle not quite sinking into his flesh, but almost. "…He'd slit their throats?"_

"_B," L said, his voice almost bored, "you said that I would not die in this room – that it was not my time, and that you would let me go."_

_B silently took the knife away, letting it fall out of his hand and drop over the side of the bed. _

"_That is true," he said, and he licked thoughtfully at his bleeding wrist, giving the impression of that jam…_

_B swept forwards and kissed L on the mouth; then lightly hopped off him without a word and went back into the bathroom, closing the door, leaving L alone again with only the taste of blood in his mouth and his scarlet letter._

* * *

And finally… the actual title of the fic comes into play.

_The Scarlet Letter _is actually quite cool in deciding on the reason for the 'A' main character Hester Prynne has to wear – it's supposed to stand for 'adulterer' because that is her sin, but it alludes to a lot of other things too. We talked about this back in literature class when we read the novella.

Felt that I should mention the 'A', though – it's a sure-fire to piss B off.

Unfortunately there was no Johnny Depp or Helena Bonham Carter, but I guess you can't have everything…

RR xXx


	5. V: Moriarty

Whoo, first off – any readers of _Poison Apple_, thankyou for the overwhelming result for Chapter 22, _Heart Sick_! We're on 1030+ reviews altogether so far! Thankyou to all readers and reviewers for that!

Secondly, we've almost exhausted the list of famous Victorian fictional (and historical) characters, including a Johnny Depp double-bill of Jack the Ripper and Sweeney Todd (I refer, of course, to Depp's roles in _From Hell_ and _Sweeney Todd_, respectively – if only there'd been a place for Washington Irving's _Sleepy Hollow_ in here, we could have had a Depp triple-bill…). With this chapter's good Professor Moriarty counted, we have only two left.

Yes indeed, this chapter we turn to the rival of the greatest detective of them all – sorry, L, you're wonderful, but the deerstalker sold Sherlock Holmes, undoubtedly the most famous of all fictional and non-fictional detectives (but not the first, as many people would think – that honour actually goes to Edgar Allan Poe's C. Auguste Dupin).

Anyway, enough of the literature lesson.

Thankyou to: **SasuNaru-yaoi-4evea39, BakayaroManiac, TwistedLilBarbie, Choticati, Shadow-L-Chan, TehMerill, abovethenightsky, Believe Bridesmaid, NinjAllyKat13, moonlit dew, TheAutumnEffect, recipe for insanity, Reese Craven, Elegant Arrow64, Ayachan** and **Intergral8100**!

This chapter is short, but hopefully it won't disappoint.

V – Moriarty

Was it a question of how—

Or a question of _why_?

There was perhaps more than one reason as to why Light was trying not to move at all; lying there on his back, looking up at the cracked, filthy ceiling. L was snuggled up next to him, clutching at him with his head on the boy's chest. Light couldn't see his face but he presumed that he was asleep.

Light didn't want to disturb him.

…Or maybe he just didn't want to talk to him – to have to interact with him. It was true that they'd kissed before, but… well, he hadn't been counting on _this_.

On _any_ of it, really.

He wondered if this had ever been L's intention, to get close to him for _this_ reason, and not just because of the Kira thing, not just because of his intelligence…

It was just so difficult to assess when—

"I'm not asleep." L looked up at him, eyes wide and gleaming. "Light-kun should not pretend that he is, either."

"I… I thought you were." Light shifted cautiously. "I didn't want to wake you up."

"I was awake anyway." L smiled at him oddly. "Is Light-kun embarrassed? Ashamed, perhaps? It seemed like you enjoyed it at the time—"

"No," Light said quickly. "No, it's nothing like that, Ryuzaki."

"L." L rolled over on top of him. "You said you would call me L."

"…Of course." Light looked away. "I'm sorry."

"You seem evasive, Light-kun." L nuzzled against Light's throat in demanding affection. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing." Light shifted again. "I'm sorry, L… but… could you please get off me?"

L lifted his head, blinking at him in surprise from a moment or two.

"Of course, Light-kun." He slid off, curling up in his favoured sitting position next to the boy; he gave a small, melancholy sigh. "Doesn't Light-kun like me anymore?"

Light paused.

"It's… not that," he replied eventually, not looking at him.

"I'm glad."

Light glanced at him, opening his mouth; but after a moment, he closed it again.

"What?" L asked, tilting his head.

"Nothing." Light gave a shake of his head, averting his gaze again. "It's nothing."

L was silent for a long while; then unfolded himself and fished about for his jeans, pulling them on.

"Shall I make some coffee?" he asked, crawling across the bed and over Light to get down.

"Sure, sounds good…"

At the last moment, just as L got down and started to pad away, Light grabbed him by his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

"L," he said, looking down at the bedsheets, feeling L try to pull free. "…Or," he went on, raising his gaze towards the dark-haired man, "…would you prefer _B_?"

L's eyes widened, his entire body freezing up; though he said nothing, not even when Light shifted the fingers holding his wrist to reveal the L-shaped scar on it.

There was no denying that being shirtless with his jeans unbuttoned and low on the his hips – _whoever_ he was – revealed the B-shaped scar on his abdomen; but it occurred to Light that if B could and would carve an L into his wrist, he could and would also carve a B into his hip. A man who sought to mirror L's appearance so perfectly would surely want to be accurate down to every last detail…

The only thing that betrayed him was the 'L' – a symbol of the real thing that didn't belong on the real thing.

So was it a question of _how_ B had done this?

—Or a question of _why_?

"Can I ask you something?" Light pressed on, not taking his eyes off the older man as he snatched his wrist back, taking a step backwards.

"…What?" came the bland reply, stance guarded nonetheless.

Light frowned at him.

"Where is L?" he asked. "The _real_ one?"

"By that, I presume you mean L Lawliet," the other man said; and he gave a sudden smile. "He's dead… _Kira_."

* * *

_L woke up in the bath._

_It was empty; cold and hard against his spine and skull. He gave a shiver, sitting up and at once hissing as the cut-into skin over his hip stretched and disturbed the wound there. Taking a breath, he summoned the strength to stand and clamber out of the bath, gripping at the dirty sink for support._

_He presumed that he was in the bathroom of that tiny hotel room, though he didn't remember B untying him and dumping him in here. The water he'd given him must have been drugged…_

_He gingerly lifted the hem of his top to inspect the damage B had done to him – the 'B' was bleeding afresh, disturbed by his movement, and encrusted with further dried blood. There was blood on the bathroom floor, too, though L suspected it to be B's rather than his own. B had come in here, after all, after cutting that 'L' into his own wrist…_

_He pulled off some toilet paper and wet it under the tap, using it to dab the cut clean and stem the bleeding; glancing up into the mirror offishly as he did so—_

_He started violently, before realising that the figure reflected before him was only himself, and himself alone. _

_Not B._

_However…_

_There was something written on the mirror in blood; just a single number._

_74_

_L blinked at that. Seventy-four? If had been thirteen… but seventy-four wasn't even a __multiple__ of thirteen…_

_He wiped it off the mirror on his sleeve and went to the bathroom door, hoping that B hadn't locked him in. It wasn't locked, and L cautiously opened it, stepping out into the tiny hotel room and glancing about for B._

"_B?" He went to the bed, noting that there appeared to be no trace of his renegade heir. Had B gone?_

_There was a book on the bed, which had been made again. L felt about for his phone, pulling it out his pocket. It had been switched off, most likely by B – though L was surprised and grateful that he hadn't just taken it altogether. He turned it on and speed-dialled Watari, sinking onto the bed and picking up the book as he did so. _

"_L!" Watari picked up almost immediately, sounding both frantic and relieved. "Are you alright?! I've been trying to contact you, but your phone has been off—"_

"_I know, Watari," L replied calmly, looking down at the book._

Collected Sherlock Holmes _by_ _Sir Arthur Conan Doyle_

"_Where have you been?" Watari went on. "I've been worried. I wasn't sure if you had just taken off by yourself to follow a lead, or—"_

"_I was kidnapped," L interrupted blandly. "By B."_

"_B…?" Watari fell very silent._

"_I'm alright, Watari," L assured him, beginning to flip through the book to page 74 – just out of interest. "…As strange as that may sound." _

"_Did he hurt you?"_

"_Well, let's not forget that he __**is**__ a murderer…But do not worry yourself. He's gone, and I am by and large undamaged."_

"_Oh, god…" Watari murmured on the other line. "L, I… I had no idea—"_

"_No, I know that. Please do not blame yourself."_

"_He could have killed you, L!"_

"_Yes, he certainly could have. But he didn't." L reached page 74 of the book, glancing at it. "Watari, we can discuss it later. For now, would you please come and retrieve me?"_

"_Of course, L. Where are you?"_

"_I have absolutely no idea."_

"_Very well, I will just trace your phone signal."_

"_Thankyou, Watari. I am in a hotel of some kind. I will meet you in the lobby."_

_L snapped his phone shut and put it back into his pocket, looking down at the book._

_Page 74 was the culminating page of the original "last" Sherlock Holmes story – _The Final Problem_, in which Holmes and his enemy, the great genius Moriarty, were each unable to defeat each other and so tumbled over the edge of Reichenbach Falls, still locked in bitter combat. _

_L wasn't quite sure what B meant by this, and closed the book again, putting it under his arm and leaving the room in which B had kept him prisoner; he took the stairs down to the lobby to wait for Watari, curling up in a seat near the door._

_The receptionist looked at him a few times; L ignored her. People often looked twice at him due to his strange appearance, and that aside, he knew he must look rather worse for wear right now…_

"_Excuse me, sir." _

_She'd come over now; L glanced up at her in disinterest._

"_Yes?"_

"_I, uh… didn't… didn't you already check out and leave earlier this morning?" she asked, frowning at him. _

_L didn't answer her; and after a moment, she seemed to reach some kind of epiphany._

"_Oh, wait!" She gave a small laugh. "Maybe you have a twin?"_

_L still said nothing, and she made her apologies and clacked away, apparently satisfied by her conclusion. _

"_I have a twin, Watari," L said later, when he was in the car and they were on the move. And when Watari glanced curiously at him in the rear-view mirror, L went on; "That's how he kidnapped me. B, I mean."_

_Watari blinked._

"_You mean…?"_

"_He looks exactly like me."_

_Watari was silent for a while._

"_I'm not surprised," was his eventual reply._

"_I know." L gave a sigh. "Neither am I."_

* * *

…Aaaaaaaaaand… look at that! She uses **exactly** the same technique as _Another Note_! Passes B off as L, and then… what do you know, it isn't L at all!

:)

Fool you twice, shame on you. XD

IMPORTANT NOTE: The story in the second half, about L's capture, is now finished. The next chapter will still be split into two parts, but will describe a far more recent meeting between L and his "twin".

So now we have Beyond Birthday (serial killer) versus Kira (serial killer).

…How interesting.

RR xXx


	6. VI: Jekyll and Hyde

Well, a mixed response from the "Oh-btw-L-is-actually-B" revelation last chapter – some of you were taken completely by surprise and some of you had figured me out beforehand. :D However, I am glad to hear that everyone so far is still enjoying _Scarlet Letter_ in all its abundance-of-B-craziness glory…

To clear up two matters mentioned in various reviews:

**One:** B and L never "switched". The whole time you think you've been reading 'Light and L interaction', you've actually been reading 'Light and B interaction'. B actually kidnapped Light exactly the same way he previously kidnapped L, and you're about to find out how he managed to get away with passing himself off as L in the first place.

**Two:** This means that… _yes_, Light _did_ sleep with B. He thought he was L until, either during or after the sex, at which point "L" was naked, Light saw the 'L' scar on his wrist – the only thing that marks him as being B, as opposed to the real thing.

Thankyou to: **Neikrider, Recipe for Insanity, Deus3xMachina, Faye317, Narroch, yellowrose87, LawliPop, TwistedLilBarbie, Intergral8100, Shadow-L-Chan, DoYouFindMeDreadful, TheAutumnEffect, Kaze Kimizu, Believe Bridesmaid, Moonlit Dew, Tamouri, The Sacred Pandapuff, abovethenightsky, sasunaru-yaoi-4evea39, silver fox, uncmeister, ElegantArrow 64, Ayachan, NinjAllyKat13, FyireChildesDream, shadowshaded, Kira-Kira, The Shock of the Dawn, Kaydoodle **and **Hikari Daeron**.

As before, the story about B's kidnapping of L is now over, and the order has switched around; you get to find out how Light fares against Beyond Birthday _after_ a flashback to L's latest encounter with his renegade heir.

Is L really dead? Well, if he is, let's face it – it's nothing new for that character…

VI – Jekyll and Hyde

Two Days Ago:

"_All alone, L?"_

_L glanced up from his laptop, stiffening; though he knew that voice all too well, it was still a moment or two before he dared to look over his shoulder at the figure standing near the door._

"_Or should I say," B went on softly, "__**never**__ alone…?"_

_L slowly closed his laptop and stood up, not taking his eyes off the younger man._

"_How did you get in?"_

_B gave a shrug._

"_Same way as last time," he replied with a smug little grin. "I regret to tell you that even Watari, the man who raised you, can't tell us apart…"_

_L was quiet for a moment; this fact had always hit a nerve in him, that B could become him so effortlessly…_

"_You made a mistake coming here, B," he said finally. "You're under arrest for both sets of London murders in addition to the Los Angeles BB Serial Murder case."_

"_Oh, L…" B tilted his head, smiling broadly. "You see, that's __**why**__ I came. The second set of London murders… why, the last victim was killed only three days ago, in London I might point out, and yet, here we are… in __**Japan**__." His expression suddenly became rather forlorn. "You didn't come. You should know by now I only kill when I want your attention, because only death makes you come home, but you… you didn't come. You're still here, in Japan."_

"_Beyond, I have other things to occupy my time with than chasing you," L snapped. _

"_Oh, yes, of course. How forgetful of me." B stepped towards him. "…__**Kira**__, isn't it? Yes, yes, I know you're busy with him… but even so, I do think you might have come to London…"_

"_B, you only started killing those people __**because**__ I'm busy with the Kira case," L bit out in reply. "What the hell do you think this is, some kind of popularity contest?"_

"_But it's not fair," B whined, suddenly throwing himself at L and shaking his shoulders. "I was here first! You're mine… and now you won't even come when I start killing people…"_

_L shook B off in disgust._

"_And I've spent this long calling Kira childish," he spat. "Well, B, if you want my attention, I suppose you have it. I'm placing you under arrest, make no mistake about it."_

_B gave a little giggle._

"_Will you come and visit me in prison?"_

"_No, I'll be too busy with Kira. That is… if Kira doesn't kill you anyway."_

_The smile snapped off B's pale face._

"_I'm surprised by how long 'Kira' is taking you," he replied coldly. "…The boy, I mean."_

_L frowned at him._

"_You mean Light Yagami?"_

_B smiled again._

"_He is Kira, you know," he said._

_L blinked._

"_How… how can you be so sure?"_

_B tilted his head._

"_Well, we could call it… a murderer's intuition," he decided at length. "…You do seem rather close to him, though, L. Have I been thrown aside by you already?"_

"_I think I would be a fool not to take anything you say at face value,"__ L responded icily, ignoring B's latter question. _

_B shrugged._

"_Perhaps." He looked at the ceiling. "Perhaps I should just get rid of Kira… then you wouldn't be so distracted by him…"_

"_That's enough, Beyond."_

_B blinked innocently at him._

"_Well, doesn't Kira kill other criminals?"_

"_Which is a crime, and why I am trying to catch him."_

_B smirked._

"_You're so boring, L. Hey, I meant to show you something…" B lifted the hem of his top, flashing the B-shaped scar he'd scraped into his own hip. "Now we're exactly identical!"_

"_No, we're not."_

"_Well, of course… I have __**this**__," B agreed, looking at his wrist, "but—"_

"_No, B. We're not identical."_

_B looked up at him, eyes unreadable._

"…_I guess," he said quietly, "that to be exactly like you… I'd have to __**be**__ you. I'd have to be a detective; I'd have to be L…"_

_L backed off from him very cautiously; the younger man did not appear to be armed with any kind of weapon, though of course this could not be taken for granted. It was B's philosophies that unsettled him, his resolution that there could be only one L, not two at once, and that if he were to be L, then…_

_Well, B was dangerous. It went without saying – he was a wanted murderer, but it was his fragile mental state that was more worrying still. Not what he was capable of, but his reasoning for doing it – jealousy of Kira, or simply those thoughts that sometimes overswept him, made him honestly and truly think that he __**was**__ L…_

_The way he could mould his personality into one or the other, as though truly two entities in one body: One Beyond Birthday, and the other his borrowed persona of L Lawliet. _

_It might have been tragically true that those around them could not tell one from the other – but more tragic still was that __**B**__ couldn't seem to tell them apart either._

_L subtly felt in his pocket for his phone; but it was empty. A quick look behind B told him that he'd left it on the floor next to his laptop, far out of his reach. Instead his slid his gaze over to his right, to the night-table, but there was nothing there at all that he could use to fend B off with._

_Not that he was entirely sure that B was going to attempt to hurt him at all._

"_I could change my wicked ways, couldn't I, L?" B murmured lullingly, closing in on him ever nearer. _

"_I think it's rather too late for that, B," L replied politely, not taking his eyes off him. _

"_But B… B for Bad?"_

"_It won't make any difference now, with nine murder victims, Beyond." _

"_You're right." B paused, looking up at the ceiling. "There's only one thing to do with B now. …Get rid of him."_

_L blinked._

"…_What?"_

_B said nothing else; though he did choose this moment to make a sudden lunge at the detective, perhaps with the intent of tearing out his throat. L managed to throw himself aside of B's reach with barely millimetres to spare, slamming his heel into B's ribs in a kick that was clumsy but got the job done. He knocked B off-balance, hearing him curse, and attempted to use the little time he'd bought to get past him. _

_B, however hurt he'd been by that kick, nonetheless grabbed at L's ankle, bringing him to the floor of the hotel room in a heap; he got up, dragging the older man up by his hair, hauling him away from the phone he'd been scrabbling for and over towards the window._

"_What an awful place," B said, letting L go and looking out of the window down at 2am Tokyo. "Even LA wasn't this bad. I thought there might be something special about Japan, if you wouldn't come home to Britain, even for me… but I'm disappointed."_

_He glanced down at L, who was getting up, holding the windowsill to drag himself to his feet._

"_Maybe it's just the people," he mused, eyes gleaming when L's gaze met his own. "…What's he like, your little Light? You must like him very much, if you wouldn't come home…"_

"_Beyond, this is insane, even for you," L hissed._

_B looked lazily at him._

"_Is it…?" He gave a shake of his head. "No, it isn't. You're mine, L. You're mine and I am yours – a scarlet letter for a scarlet letter. I am you and you are me, and… L and B, B and L, well, that's how it should be… No A, no M, no N, and __**no Kira**__…" B whirled on him, eyes wide and glazed. "And yet… you betray me like this?! How __**dare**__ you drop me for Kira?! I was here first, you're __**mine**__, don't you understand?!"_

_B backed L against the window, grabbing his shoulders again on that last word._

"_B—"_

"_No. No B." B took a shuddering breath, shaking his head. "There's no B – no place for B here. You've made that perfectly clear…" He looked up at the ceiling, swaying back and forwards a little. "No B, only L and Kira… There's no need for B anymore… And yet…"_

_He looked back at L – his mirror image in every way but one. _

"_If there is no B, then there are two Ls… and there can't be two Ls, isn't that right…? And if I'm L, then… you're B." B gave a little laugh. "What does L do? L gets rids of murderers, like B, and like Kira…"_

"_Beyond, stop this—" L started, half panicked and half furious with his heir._

"_B for Beyond?" B interrupted, his voice sing-song and airy; he leaned in close to L, close enough to kiss him, but instead only whispered; "…Or B for… Bye?"_

_L blinked at him; and maybe he'd had some kind of comeback for that, or some kind of question in regards to its meaning—_

_Not that it made any difference when B suddenly shoved him backwards with all of his strength, right through the window._

_L's hotel room was on the thirteenth floor; it was called the fourteenth because this hotel was one of those superstitious ones that didn't like to call it that, but B had counted them on his way up. It didn't really matter if L had been dead before he'd hit the pavement or not – he certainly wasn't alive now._

_He'd been curious as to whether or not the blood would form a letter – a scarlet letter; a B, or an L, or—_

_It didn't._

_It was just a mess on the concrete, thirteen storeys down; a border around the shattered remains of a man now nameless – his title passed over to his heir._

_Beyond Birthday had entered this room as B; and now left it as L._

_And what did L do?_

_He got rid of murderers._

_Murderers like Kira._

--

"Actually, I wouldn't prefer B," L said. "Because I'm _not_ B."

Light slid across the bed away from him warily.

"Yes, you are. You're not L. You just said L was dead."

"L is a title, Light-kun – one to be passed down from—"

"That doesn't mean anything!" Light interrupted. "That doesn't _make_ you L! What the hell, you've even been _acting_ like him, you're _dressed_ like him—"

"Because I'm L."

"You're _not_!" Light yelled at him, getting off the bed and putting it between them. "You're Beyond Birthday, the serial murderer—"

"And you're Kira." L smiled indulgently at him.

"No, I'm not," Light spat. "And incidentally, _you_ have no right to accuse me of that, you bastard!"

"Yes, I have, because I'm L. And also because… well, it's not guesswork on my part."

Light stopped, blinking at him incredulously.

"You… you have absolutely _no_ proof!" he said eventually.

"Yes, I do." L pointed vaguely above Light's head. "I can't read your lifespan."

Light stared at him, completely floored.

"You… you have Shinigami Eyes?" he asked eventually, his voice very quiet.

"Oh, is that what they're called? I didn't know they had a name…"

"Where did you get them?" Light demanded. "Do… do you have a Death Note too?"

"I don't even know what that is." L smirked. "Is that how you kill, Kira? I have to say, you're not as smart as you seem…"

"The Shinigami Eyes!" Light snapped, ignoring him. "Where did you get them?"

L shrugged.

"I was born with them," he said offishly. "I can usually read the lifespans of everyone I see, but… I figured that perhaps it's impossible to see the lifespans of murderers. I cannot see my own… and I cannot see yours."

"That's… that's not right."

"But you _are_ Kira, regardless. There is no point in denying it now, Light Yagami."

"You…" Light raised his chin haughtily, glaring at the older man. "You can't convict me, you still have no concrete proof. You need my Death Note, and I'm not going to tell you where it is. Besides, you're a murderer yourself."

"Not anymore. B was a murderer – but I'm L now, and L isn't."

"You can't just… _erase_ your guilt by taking a dead man's name!" Light glowered at him. "You're right, I _am_ Kira… and I deal death to the wicked, those who deserve to be punished. And _you_, Beyond Birthday… fall into that category."

"Oh, do you think you're going to judge me for B's sins?" L smirked sickly at him. "No, you aren't, Light-kun. Do you think I'm interested in _convicting_ you as Kira? No, I have no interest in that at all. Whether I'm B _or_ L… I have an agenda with you. I'm not gong to arrest you and send you to prison. That wouldn't be fair at all… to _me_."

Light gazed at him in puzzlement.

"What…? I… I don't understand what you mean…"

L's dark eyes narrowed.

"_He was mine_," he hissed. "He was mine long before _you_ ever appeared, Kira. And yet, the moment you turn up… he ignores me. I killed the victims over here recently to make him come home… and he didn't come. He _wouldn't_ come… because of _you_." L clenched his fists. "I'm not remotely attracted to you, but… I expect that _he_ was. I was only guessing that you'd kissed previously, and you… you proved me correct. _Why aren't I good enough?_ Is it because you've killed more than I have?" L sighed. "…Such a little whore. I'd never have thought it of him…"

Light gave a small shiver.

"When did you kill him?" he asked, not answering any of these questions.

"Two days ago. That fool Watari can't tell the difference between us, so before there was a big fuss about the "suicide victim" who'd jumped from his hotel room window, I got him to help me arrange bringing you here to London."

"And what do you want with me?" Light asked warily.

"Well, I'm L now, and L gets rid of murderers…" L gave a sigh. "But it's not just that. It's… well, you stole him away from me. If only you hadn't shown up and come between us… I wouldn't have had to kill him. It's your fault he's dead, you know. And now, to finish off this entire unpleasant business neatly… I'm just going to have to kill you too."

L casually picked up the knife he'd previously placed on the bedside table; Light's chocolate eyes darted from L to the blade and then back again, calculating. He wasn't unprepared – he might be in only his underwear but he always wore his watch, and concealed in it was a tiny scrap of Death Note for these kinds of emergencies.

Well, okay, maybe not exactly _this_ kind emergency – who in hell would foresee _this_ kind of emergency? – but for emergencies in which he needed to kill someone quickly.

Hell, he even knew this guy's full name.

But…

…_He didn't have a pen._

His eyes darted around, looking for something he could grab and write with. If this had been a better hotel room there would have been free pens with the hotel name stamped on them lying around, but there was nothing, nothing at all…

"Looking for something, Kira?" L asked, approaching him, twirling the knife idly around nimble fingers.

_The knife._ Of course; if he could get the knife, he could cut himself and use his own blood to write down Beyond Birthday's name…

The room was tiny; Light had noticed that before, but now it was far more painfully apparent, given that there really was nowhere to run when L suddenly sprang across the bed, knife aimed right at him. Light darted aside, the blade barely missing him, and dashed for the tiny bathroom, wrenching open the door. L wasn't far behind him, throwing his weight against the door when Light tried to shut him out; the impact of it almost knocking him into the bath. Light staggered, grabbing at the sink to stop himself tumbling backwards.

L flipped the knife over in his hand with utmost ease, advancing on the teenager impassively. Light met his gaze, trying to read his next move – it made no difference when the restricted space of the bathroom made it impossible to get away from the knife as sank into his left shoulder.

Light bit back the scream of agony, instead flailing blindly at his assailant, bid on by pure adrenaline. His elbow caught L in the face, knocking him away and severing his grip on the knife. Seeing this as his only chance, Light used his bulkier build to his advantage, slamming himself into the older man and cracking his skull against the wall, allowing him to slide into the stained bath.

Gasping in pain, Light stumbled to the sink, leaning against it for support as he gripped the hilt of the knife, took a deep breath and pulled it out of his shoulder, throwing it behind him to the bathroom floor. He swayed a little, ink-black blotching against his vision; knowing he was probably going to faint, he splayed his fingers blindly against the knife wound, coating them in blood, before clumsily sliding out the bottom compartment of his watch and writing, with his fingertip in scarlet letters as legible as he could manage, '_Beyond Birthday_'_._

It was done; Kira's justice against another murderer.

Sliding to his knees, still gripping at the sink, Light gave a gasping little sigh, feeling the blood from his shoulder slide down over his chest and—

He heard a scraping sound come from behind him – the sound of metal dragging against tiles. He looked up at the mirror in horror, finding L, or his reflection (_or the reflection of his reflection_), to be behind him, his last forty seconds not quite ticked all away—

The knife came plunging through Light's heart from the back with such speed that the boy didn't even utter a sound; his cinnamon eyes merely widened and the hand gripping the sink gave a small spasm, and although he wasn't yet dead, he merely fell to the bathroom floor on his face.

L slid the knife back out of the boy, examining it for a moment before running his fingers over it; he reached up to the mirror and drew an 'L' on it, glancing at that scarlet letter for second or two…

…Before reaching up again and drawing a few more lines, changing it into a 'B'.

Strange how one could become the other so easily.

--

_Years later, a long time into his succeeding of L's title, Near still never answered to it when addressed as such._

_His argument stood that he wasn't L, he would never __**be**__ L, and thus didn't think of himself as L._

_The truth was that Near may or may not have had scarlet letters of his own; but L simply wasn't one of them._

_And neither was B._

--

…So. Yeah. Not only did _L_ die, but so did Light _and_ Beyond.

Cheerful stuff.

Well, this story _does_ take a nod from various works of Gothic literature… in which the protagonists usually die (Frankenstein, Jekyll and Dracula, to name but three of our featured fiends…).

As I said right at the start, I didn't like to refer to this as an AU/Elseworlds because, being set in the _Death Note_ universe, it's not an AU, per se – it just screws about with the events of the story and kills off the main character long before his canon-time…

Anyone who wonders why I continued to refer to B in the narrative as "L"… well, it would have seemed hypocritical to revert to calling him "B" after it was revealed that he wasn't actually L, and additionally… technically, it's correct. Beyond was next in line for L's title – the event of his death, B becomes L.

So you see? I didn't _actually_ trick you – I just never mentioned that he had been B until he murdered the first L. :D

Technically… this is the end of the story of _Scarlet Letter_, but the fic isn't finished – it has one more chapter. Seems confusing and weird, but the last chapter has a purpose, in addition to L and B.

:)

RR xXx


	7. VII: Dorian Gray

Well, I am glad that everyone seems to have enjoyed the excessive Death Fest that was the last chapter of _Scarlet Letter_. Though I guess I've left you all wondering how there could _possibly_ be another chapter to this…

:D

Well, I _did_ say way back that this fic was, in addition to being BxL, also LxB. And yet, thus far, there has been no LxB at all…

Thankyou to: **abovethenightsky, Believe Bridesmaid, Hikari Daeron, The Sacred Pandapuff, BakayaroManiac, Intergral8100, Rin Cho, recipe for insanity, Xhadow Kiss, Kaze Kimizu, Neikrider, Sexykill69, The Shock of the Dawn, DoYouFindMeDreadful, Svadilfari, AishiExcel, uncmeister, SasuNaru-yaoi-4evea39, Shadow-L-Chan, The Autumn Effect, ayachan, bunny of death, Lolita Lilyette, Vera-Sama, Scripta Lexicona, phoenix of hell **and **kitoriwitch613**!

Consider this to be not an epilogue to _Scarlet Letter_—

But a prologue.

VII – Dorian Gray

L had only come back to Wammy's House for A's funeral; a small, respectable service, held in memorial of the first child trained to become L.

The first child to lose his mind and his life to that letter.

B hung about close to L throughout the service and afterwards like a small, ragged ghost intent on haunting him; maybe it was just another way of being defiant, given that the only reason that B was allowed to be here at all was because of both the sadness of the situation and his now-elevated position as first-in-line for L's title.

Roger was at the end of his tether with the boy; he was currently completely grounded, confined to his own quarters for a week. It was only because Roger felt that he should attend the funeral out of respect for A that the punishment had been lifted for a single afternoon.

Whilst L himself either didn't notice or didn't mind B draping himself all over him, Roger did on both counts, and eventually chased B away from him, telling him to go back to his room.

B fixed him with a baleful look, dark sullen eyes glancing above the man's head for a moment or two, before he skulked away in silence.

"Roger, he's just upset," L said mildly after B had left the room. "A's death… has been a shock to all of us."

"I am more concerned about B, to be perfectly honest," Roger replied gravely. "I… I didn't tell you why he's being punished this week, but… well, I suppose you _should_ know, L."

L blinked at the older man.

"Keeping secrets about my heirs, Roger?"

"It's not that, I just… thought it might be rather awkward for you to hear." Roger took a breath. "He… was dressing like you. Well…" He gestured vaguely at the black suit L had worn for the funeral. "Not like _that_, obviously, but… well, I wouldn't have been so harsh as to punish him for only doing it once, but you must understand—"

"That this isn't the first time he has done it," L finished flatly. "I am aware of this… _habit_ of his, Roger."

Roger blinked.

"You… are?"

L gave a nod.

"Of course," he said, getting down off his chair. "You should have told me earlier. I'll go and talk to him."

B was curled up on his bed in the dark when L pushed the door open; presumably sulking, glaring at the opposite wall.

"It's so dark in here, B," the detective noted, making for the curtains to open them as the door swung shut. "You're going to destroy your eyesight."

"No!" B sat bolt upright, swiping at L's hand. "I don't like light."

L paused, letting his hand fall away from the curtain again; he glanced at B, who looked as though he'd been running his hands through his hair, spikes of it sticking out at odd angles.

"Roger told me why you're being punished," he said at length; he shrugged off his black jacket and loosened his tie.

B glanced at him briefly before averting his gaze, sulkily silent.

"B…?"

"I don't get it!" B burst out aggressively. "They're training me up to be exactly like you, to _be_ L… and then, when I start mirroring you, they yell at me for it!"

"I know it seems confusing, but…" L gave a small sigh. "B, 'L' is only a title. You have to be yourself."

B looked up at the detective.

"Then who are _you_?" he asked.

"I…" L frowned, sinking onto the bed next to the teenager. "…That's a good question. More than just that letter, though. It _is_ only a letter, B. You mustn't let it destroy you."

"Like A?"

"Yeah." L looked up at B's ceiling. "Like A."

B fidgeted for a moment, as though debating whether or not to speak; eventually he looked again at the older man.

"I… knew he was going to die," he murmured, his voice very quiet.

L looked sharply at him.

"You _knew_?" He took B's shoulders. "Did he _tell_ you he was going to kill himself, B?"

B shook his head.

"No, I… I just… kind of knew." He looked up at L helplessly. "What was I supposed to do? No-one would have believed me… They'd have just thought I was saying it for attention, just like they think everything I do is just for attention." B gave a little snort of disgust. "Like I want _their_ attention…"

"…But you want _mine_."

"You're different," B muttered, looking at the floor.

"Why is that?"

B didn't answer him this time, shifting on the bedsheets.

"Beyond?"

"You said you liked it when I dressed like you," B said suddenly, not looking at him.

"I… that was not meant to… _encourage_ you to—"

"Well… why do people say one thing when they mean something completely different?!" B snapped, interrupting him. "Why do they tell me to be like you, and then punish me for it?! Am I meant to be L or not?"

"B, it's not that simple." L unknotted his black tie and slid it out from beneath his shirt collar. "They're… training you to succeed my title, not become my very image. There is no need for you to be a perfect copy of me, a painting or a reflection… That's not the _point_, and perhaps it's not your fault. It may just be that they don't make it clear enough – after all, it's certain enough that A killed himself because of the pressure of being first in line for my title…"

"Then what _is_ the point, L?" B pressed, grabbing at the detective's cuff.

"So that, if something were to happen to me… there would be someone to take my place."

"You mean… if you _died_?" B asked softly.

"Well… yes." L gave a small nod.

B was nodding himself.

"Yes, I suppose that makes sense," he muttered, more to himself. "There can't be two Ls at once, only one L… there only _needs_ to be one L…"

"I should return downstairs, B," L said, getting up and picking up his jacket.

"You'll be going away again soon, won't you?"

B's words made L pause as he began to walk away from the bed.

"Tomorrow morning," he replied. "Watari and I came from Ireland for A's funeral. We're working on a case, so we have to get back there as soon as possible."

"Will only _death_ make you come back?" B asked, his voice lulling. "Will only death make you come home, L?"

"B, that's not…" L glanced at him through spikes of hair.

"It's true, isn't it?" B asked, leaning forward. "Nothing makes you come home anymore. You won't even come home to see _me_." B's eyes narrowed. "You know, maybe if you'd come home more often, A wouldn't have—"

"_Beyond!_"

Knowing he'd gone too far, B actually shrank back a little, blinking his large dark eyes.

"No," he said eventually, drawing circles on the bedsheets with his forefinger. "…I think it was just despair and envy, L. He knew you loved me best."

L gave a small, despondent shake of his head and turned away towards the door again, opening it.

"L!" B suddenly called after him. "Can… can I—?"

"If you want," L interrupted expressionlessly, leaving the room. "You know where my room is, but… I will not encourage you."

He closed the door behind him, leaving B by himself in the dark.

Dark was good.

He didn't like light at all.

* * *

"I wish you wouldn't do that, B."

B, who had been lazily drawing on L's abdomen with his forefinger, glanced up at him.

"What, touch you?"

"Dress like me."

"I'm not dressed like you."

"…Not right now, no."

"I like how you dress."

"I know you do." L frowned. "…But isn't that why you're in trouble?"

"I don't care what they do to me."

"You won't learn much about succeeding me if you're always being punished. Besides…" L wiped at B's face with the heel of his hand, examining the smear of black that came away on his skin. "…Look at the mess you make of yourself."

B gave a shrug and nuzzled against him.

"No." L sat up in bed, pushing the teenager away. "No getting comfortable. Out you go, Beyond."

"No, you're going away in the morning." B clung to him, refusing to be pushed out. "And then you probably won't come home until someone else dies…"

"B, I'm busy. I can't keep coming back here, you know that…"

"Let me stay." B pawed at his chest. "Just tonight. I'll do anything you want, L…"

"You… must be tired from—"

"No." B kissed L's cheek, then his throat and his collarbone. "I'm not. We can do anything you want. Just let me stay with you, L. I don't know when I'll see you again…"

"Why can't you be so affectionate to everyone, B?" L sighed, massaging the boy's skull. "All the other kids are scared of you…"

"Because you're the only person that matters."

"No, I'm not; and you really have to learn that, B…"

B didn't answer him, straddling his chest instead; reaching up to sink his fingers into L's hair. L grabbed his right wrist, pulling it close to his face.

"What's this?"

"Nothing." B snatched his wrist back; rubbing his thumb unconsciously over the 'L' he'd scraped into his skin with a paperclip during one of his lessons. "It's nothing, L."

And it wasn't; not a scarlet letter, anyway, because it wasn't something that B was ashamed of.

Twenty-six letters in the alphabet – and there were twenty-five of them that B just didn't care about at all.

He never would.

L didn't understand B's excessive aggression towards those around him; though that was perhaps because L was the only person that B wasn't aggressive to. It was natural, perhaps, that he would be baffled by such deviant behaviour when the teenager fell at his feet with every word.

Sometimes it didn't even _take_ a word. Later, when B was on his back underneath the older man, clawing at his back, it wasn't because L had ordered him there.

"Beyond… you're hurting… me," the detective murmured breathlessly, pausing to unlatch the teenager from clutching at him.

"Sorry…" B blinked, then closed his eyes and bumped the crown of his head against L's shoulder, like a cat demanding attention from its owner. "…I love you, L."

"Don't say that, B."

B opened his eyes again.

"Aren't I allowed…?"

"Just don't." L ran his fingers through the boy's hair. "Don't say it."

"I don't understand. Does it… make you upset, L?"

"Sshh." L put his fingertips to B's mouth, then kissed him on the forehead.

Truthfully, he'd silenced B because it hurt him to hear the boy say that, knowing as he did that he didn't love B back; but he told himself that it was for Beyond's own good, that he knew that there was only one letter out of twenty-six that B cared about, that he never _would_ care about those other twenty-five, and that it wouldn't do to encourage his love of the one remaining.

He'd thought that silencing B's profession of love for that letter could only do him good; that telling B not to say it would make B not feel it.

Of course, B hadn't listened.

He never would.

* * *

_I did this to him._

He couldn't blame B for this – the boy was only sixteen, and, well…

It made _sense_ that B wouldn't discourage these kinds of advances. It wasn't clear exactly what B's feelings towards him actually _were_; love or infatuation or just hero-worship. But whichever of those it was…

…To gain L's attention in this way was obviously not something B was going to shy away from.

_But why did L give him that attention in the first place?_

L didn't love him. He wasn't even particularly attracted to him. Granted, he wasn't really all that much older than him – only a few years, probably even less than five – but B, all things said and done, was really just a kid.

Just a kid, so fixated on what he must become that he'd already begun to craft himself into that likeness; the natural ebony hair in unkempt spikes framing the pale face, stained with black make-up that had smeared during the night.

L didn't think of himself as a particularly vain person; so what was it about B, about the fact that B seemed to be able to snap his fingers and magically transform himself into his exact likeness that…?

It was vastly unsettling, and L didn't _like_ that B insisted on dressing like him; but at the same time, it was only when B dressed like him that he expressed any real interest in him.

(It was only when B dressed like him that he felt the need to pound him into the mattress.)

He couldn't explain it – and maybe it was the fact that he couldn't explain it that made him keep doing it.

And maybe it was _that_ that made _B_ keep doing it.

It was only his title – that single letter – that had ruined A; but maybe L _himself_ had ruined B.

L wasn't stupid – it was obvious that B wasn't exactly mentally stable. It was just unfortunate that he had never shown any particular traits of any particular mental disorder, so it was difficult to pinpoint exactly what was wrong with him. He couldn't be treated thus, and so everybody merely stood back from him and noted idly that he wasn't exactly mental stable. It was a frustrating state of affairs, but on that note, L could consider that perhaps it wasn't just _his_ influence that made B so neurotic: B had simply been neurotic to begin with, and the whole "L's heir" thing hadn't helped matters.

But that said… it was difficult not to feel guilty about B right now. L was sitting in front of his mirror, the breaking dawnlight streaming in through the crack in the curtains; watching B in the reflection of the glass.

The boy was asleep in the bed, his wrist up on the pillow beside his head and clearly showing L the scratched-in token he'd tried to hide from him.

His very image, bearing that scarlet letter; perhaps a likeness which bore every mark and wound of the original's sins, keeping the original pure and blameless. B was imperfect so that L didn't have to be.

B for Beauty; L's beauty.

B stirred, shifting and sleepily opening his eyes; L turned towards him, rising from his seat. He was dressed in usual jeans and white shirt – the uniform that B had copied, worn here last night, made L need to have him but not know why…

L stepped past him, picking up B's top and throwing it onto the sheets next to him.

"Get dressed," he said flatly; he started towards the en suite bathroom. "I'm going to go take a shower. I want you gone by the time I come back."

The detective didn't wait for a response, going into the bathroom and shutting the door decisively behind him. B sat up and watched him go, then picked up his top and pulled it on, wiping at his face to clean off the make-up he could feel smudged on his cheeks. He gave a yawn and snuggled back under the sheets again, deciding that he could afford another few minutes in L's bed at least before he crept back to his own room.

There was a soft knock at the door; B sat up again, cocking his head towards the bathroom door, wondering if L had heard it. There was no sign of life from the bathroom, and just as B debated what he should do, the bedroom door opened, admitting Watari.

B curled up defensively, glaring at the elderly man from beneath spikes of his ebony hair, willing him go away.

Watari didn't; but nor he did he pay very much attention to B. He was carrying a tray, which he took to the dresser and set down.

"I've brought you some tea, L," he said, "and this morning's newspaper." He turned towards the bed. "Do you want anything else?"

B shook his head speechlessly and Watari gave a small nod.

"Very well. I will see you shortly."

He started out of the room, leaving B to stare after him in shock. Was Watari being deliberately tactful, or…

…_could he not tell that he wasn't L?_

Watari was almost out of the room completely before B decided to test him; a dangerous pursuit, perhaps, but not the kind of thing that Beyond Birthday would shy away from.

"Watari!"

Watari leaned back into the room.

"Yes, L?"

B brushed his hair aside from his face and said nothing, waiting…

"What's the matter?" Watari eventually asked. "Can I bring you anything else?"

B blinked; and then he smiled.

"Actually," he said, leaning forward, "…I _would_ like some jam."

**END**

* * *

…Just to turn everything on its head again. :D

So… who is the real monster here? B… or L?

Well, we've reached the end of _Scarlet Letter_, in all its LightxBxL-gayness, excessively-murderous, ripped-off-Gothic-novels glory. Thankyou to everyone who has reviewed and/or read! Whether you left a review or not, I'm happy that you even took the time to read my fic when you could have spent your time doing other things – like stealing hubcaps or reading Laurell K. Hamilton's progressively-more-superb _Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter_ series.

O.o

Fare thee well, and here's to Beyond Birthday, the lovely little nutjob that he is. :)

…Why do we all love a psychotic/psychopathic/clearly _insane_ serial killer, anyway…?

RobinRocks xXx


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